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Sir Galahad 
From the painting by George Frederick Watts, R 

"Then the old man said unto Arthur: 
Sir, I bring here a young Knight, the which is of K 
lineage, and of the kindred of Joseph of Aramdthte , — 
whereby the marvels of this court, and of strange re 
shall be fully accomplished." 



THE HARVARD CLASSICS 
EDITED BY CHARLES W ELIOT LL D 

CHRONICLE AND ROMANCE 

FROISSART ■ MALORY • HOLINSHED 



WITH INTRODUCTIONS, NOTES 
AND ILLUSTRATIONS 




P F COLLIER & SON 
NEW YORK 



o Q 






Copyright, igio 
By P. F. Collier & Son 







C CI. A -2 6 17 ■ 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

The Chronicles of Froissart, Translated by Lord Berners 
edited by g. c. macaulay 

The Campaign of Crecy 5 

The Battle of Poitiers 34 

Wat Tyler's Rebellion 61 

The Battle of Otterburn 83 

The Holy Grail Sir Thomas Malory 107 

from the caxton edition of the morte d' arthur 

A Description of Elizabethan England Written by 
William Harrison for Holinshed's Chronicles 

CHAPTER 

I. Of Degrees of People 229 

II. Of Cities and Towns 242 

III. Of Gardens and Orchards 248 

IV. Of Fairs and Markets . 256 

V. Of the Church of England 264 

VI. Of Food and Diet . 285 

VII. Of Apparel and Attire 304 

VIII. Of Building and Furniture 308 

IX. Of Provision for the Poor 317 

X. Of Air, Soil, and Commodities 323 

XL Of Minerals and Metals . . 335 

XII. Of Cattle Kept for Profit 343 

XIII. Of Wild and Tame Fowls ........ 352 

XIV. Of Savage Beasts and Vermin ....... 359 

XV. Of Our English Dogs 369 

XVI. Of the Navy of England ........ 376 

XVII. Of Kinds of Punishment 382 

XVIII. Of Universities 391 

1 



INTRODUCTORY NOTE v> 

Jean Froissart, the most representative of the chroniclers 
of the later Middle Ages, was born at Valenciennes in 1337. 
The Chronicle which, more than his poetry, has kept his fame 
alive, was undertaken when he ivas only twenty; the first book 
was written in its earliest form by 1369; and he kept revising 
and enlarging the work to the end of his life. In 1361 he went 
to England, entered the Church, and attached himself to Queen 
Philippa of Hainault, the wife of Edward III, who made him 
her secretary and clerk of her chapel. Much of his life was 
spent in travel. He went to France with the Black Prince, and 
to Italy with the Duke of Clarence. He saw lighting on the 
Scottish border, visited Holland, Savoy, and Provence, return- 
ing at intervals to Paris and London. He was Vicar of Estinnes- 
au-Mont, Canon of Chimay, and chaplain to the Comte de Blois ; 
but the Church to him was rather a source of revenue than a 
religious calling. He finally settled down in his native town, 
where he died about 1410. 

Froissart's wandering life points to one of the most prominent 
of his characteristics as a historian. Uncritical and often incon- 
sistent as he is, his mistakes are not due to partisanship, for 
he is extraordinarily cosmopolitan. The Germans he dislikes 
as unchivalrous ; but though his life lay in the period of the 
Hundred Years' War between England and France, and though 
he describes many of the events of that war, he is as friendly to 
England as to France. 

By birth Froissart belonged to the bourgeoisie, but his tastes 
and associations made him an aristocrat. Glimpses of the suf- 
ferings which the lower classes underwent in the wars of his time 
appear in his pages, but they are given incidentally and without 
sympathy. His interests are all in the somewhat degenerate 
chivalry of his age, in the splendor of courts, the pomp and cir- 
cumstance of war, in tourneys, and in pageantry. Full of the 
love of adventure, he would travel across half of Europe to 
see a gallant feat of arms, a coronation, a royal marriage. 
Strength and courage and loyalty were the virtues he loved; 
cowardice and petty greed he hated. Cruelty and injustice 

3 



4 INTRODUCTION 

could not dim for him the brilliance of the careers of those 
brigand lords who were his friends and patrons. 

Ti%e material for the earlier part of his Chronicles he took 
largely from his predecessor and model, Jean Lebel; the later 
books are filled with narratives of what he saw with his own eyes, 
or gathered from the lips of men who had themselves been part 
of what they told. This fact, along with his mastery of a style 
which is always vivacious if sometimes diffuse, accounts for the 
vividness and picture squeness of his work. The pageant of 
medieval life in court and camp dazzled and delighted him, and 
it is as a pageant that we see the Middle Ages in his book. 

Froissart holds a distinguished place among the poets as well 
as the historians of his century. He wrote chiefly in the al- 
legorical style then in vogue; and his poems, though cast in 
a mold no longer in fashion, are fresh and full of color, and 
were found worthy of imitation by Geoffrey Chaucer. 

But it is as the supreme chronicler of the later age of chivalry 
that he lives. " God has been gracious enough," he writes, 
" to permit me to visit the courts and palaces of kings, . . . 
and all the nobles, kings, dukes, counts, barons, and knights, 
belonging to all nations, have been kind to me, have listened 
to me, willingly received me, and proved very useful to mei 
. . . Wherever I went I enquired of old knights and squires 
zvho had shared in deeds of arms, and could speak with authority 
concerning them, and also spoke with heralds in order to verify 
and corroborate all that was told me. In this way I gathered 
noble facts for my history, and as long as I live, I shall, by the 
grace of God, continue to do this, for the more I labour at this 
the more pleasure I have, and I trust that the gentle knight who 
loves arms will be nourished on such noble fare, and accomplish 
still more." 



THE CAMPAIGN OF CRECY 



HOW THE KING OF ENGLAND CAME OVER THE SEA AGAIN, TO 
RESCUE THEM IN AIGUILLON 

THE king of England, who had heard how his men 
were sore constrained in the castle of Aiguillon, then 
he thought to go over the sea into Gascoyne with a 
great army. There he made his provision and sent for men 
all about his realm and in other places, where he thought to 
speed for his money. In the same season the lord Godfrey of 
Harcourt came into England, who was banished out of 
France : he was well received with the king and retained to 
be about him, and had fair lands assigned him in England to 
maintain his degree. Then the king caused a great navy of 
ships to be ready in the haven of Hampton, and caused all 
manner of men of war to draw thither. About the feast of 
Saint John Baptist the year of our Lord God mcccxlvi., the 
king departed from the queen and left her in the guiding 
of the earl of Kent his cousin ; and he stablished the lord 
Percy and the lord Nevill to be wardens of his realm with 
[the archbishop of Canterbury,] the archbishop of York, the 
bishop of Lincoln and the bishop of Durham ; for he never 
voided his realm but that he left ever e"hough at home to 
keep and defend the realm, if need were. Then the king 
rode to Hampton and there tarried for wind : then he entered 
into his ship and the prince of Wales with him, and the lord 
Godfrey of Harcourt, and all other lords, earls, barons and 
knights, with all their companies. They were in number a 
four thousand men of arms and ten thousand archers, be- 
side Irishmen and Welshmen that followed the host afoot. 

Now I shall name you certain of the lords that went over 
with king Edward in that journey. First, Edward his eldest 
son, prince of Wales, who as then was of the age of thirteen 

5 



6 FROISSART'S CHRONICLES 

years or thereabout, 1 the earls of Hereford, Northampton, 
Arundel, Cornwall, Warwick, Huntingdon, Suffolk, and 
Oxford; and of barons the lord Mortimer, who was after 
earl of March, the lords John, Louis and Roger of Beau- 
champ, and the lord Raynold Cobham; of lords the lord of 
Mowbray, Ros, Lucy, Felton, Bradestan, Multon, Delaware, 
Manne, 2 Basset, Berkeley, and Willoughby, with divers other 
lords; and of bachelors there was John Chandos, Fitz-Warin, 
Peter and James Audley, Roger of Wetenhale, Bartholomew 
of Burghersh, and Richard of Pembridge, with divers other 
that I cannot name. Few there were of strangers: there 
was the earl Hainault, 3 sir Wulfart of Ghistelles, and five 
or six other knights of Almaine, and many other that I can- 
not name. 

Thus they sailed forth that day in the name of God. They 
were well onward on their way toward Gascoyne, but on the 
third day there rose a contrary wind and drave them on the 
marches of Cornwall, and there they lay at anchor six days. 
In that space the king had other counsel by the means of sir 
Godfrey Harcourt: he counselled the king not to go into 
Gascoyne, but rather to set aland in Normandy, and said to 
the king: 'Sir, the country of Normandy is one of the 
plenteous countries of the world: sir, on jeopardy of my 
head, if ye will land there, there is none that shall resist you ; 
the people of Normandy have not been used to the war, and 
all the knights and squires of the country are now at the 
siege before Aiguillon with the duke. And, sir, there ye 
shall find great towns that be not walled, whereby your 
men shall have such winning, that they shall be the better 
thereby twenty year after ; and, sir, ye may follow with your 
army till ye come to Caen in Normandy: sir, I require you 
to believe me in this voyage.' 

The king, who was as then but in the flower of his youth, 
desiring nothing so much as to have deeds of arms, inclined 
greatly to the saying of the lord Harcourt, whom he called 
cousin. Then he commanded the mariners to set their 
course to Normandy, and he took into his ship the token of 

1 He was in fact sixteen; born 15th June 1330. 

2 Probably ' Mohun.' 

3 The usual confusion between ' comte ' and ' comte.' It means, ' of the 
county of Hainault there was sir Wulfart of Ghistelles,' etc. 



THE CAMPAIGN OF CRECY 7 

the admiral the earl of Warwick, and said how he would be 
admiral for that viage, and so sailed on before as governour 
of that navy, and they had wind at will. Then the king 
arrived in the isle of Cotentin, at a port called Hogue Saint- 
Vaast.* 

Tidings anon spread abroad how the Englishmen were 
aland: the towns of Cotentin sent word thereof to Paris to 
king Philip. He had well heard before how the king of 
England was on the sea with a great army, but he wist not 
what way he would draw, other into Normandy, Bretayne or 
Gascoyne. As soon as he knew that the king of England was 
aland in Normandy, he sent his constable the earl of Guines, 
and the earl of Tancarville, who were but newly come to 
him from his son from the siege at Aiguillon, to the town of 
Caen, commanding them to keep that town against the 
Englishmen. They said they would do their best: they 
departed from Paris with a good number of men of war, and 
daily there came more to them by the way, and so came to 
the town of Caen, where they were received with great joy 
of men of the town and of the country thereabout, that were 
drawn thither for surety. These lords took heed for the pro- 
vision of the town, the which as then was not walled. The 
king thus was arrived at the port Hogue Saint- Vaast near to 
Saint-Saviour the Viscount 5 the right heritage to the lord 
Godfrey of Harcourt, who as then was there with the king 
of England. 

HOW THE KING OF ENGLAND RODE IN THREE BATTLES 
THROUGH NORMANDY 

When the king of England arrived in the Hogue Saint- 
Vaast, the king issued out of his ship, and the first foot that 
he set on the ground, he fell so rudely, that the blood brast 
out of his nose. The knights that were about him took him 
up and said : ' Sir, for God's sake enter again into your 
ship, and come not aland this day, for this is but an evil sign 
for us.' Then the king answered quickly and said : ' Where- 
fore? This is a good token for me, for the land desireth to 
have me.' Of the which answer all his men were right joy- 

4 Saint- Vaast-de la Hogue. 5 Saint-Sauveur-le-Vicomte. 

(a) hc XXXV 



8 FROISSART'S CHRONICLES 

fill. So that day and night the king lodged on the sands, and 
in the meantime discharged the ships of their horses and 
other baggages : there the king made two marshals of his 
host, the one the lord Godfrey of Harcourt and the other the 
earl of Warwick, and the earl of Arundel constable. And he 
ordained that the earl of Huntingdon should keep the fleet 
of ships with a hundred men of arms and four hundred 
archers: and also he ordained three battles, one to go on his 
right hand, closing to the sea-side, and the other on his left 
hand, and the king himself in the midst, and every night to 
lodge all in one field. 

Thus they set forth as they were ordained, and they that 
went by the sea took all the ships that they found in their 
ways : and so long they went forth, what by sea and what 
by land, that they came to a good port and to a good town 
called Barfleur, the which incontinent was won, for they 
within gave up for fear of death. Howbeit, for all that, 
the town was robbed, and much gold and silver there found, 
and rich jewels: there was found so much riches, that the 
boys and villains of the host set nothing by good furred 
gowns : they made all the men of the town to issue out and to 
go into the ships, because they would not suffer them to be 
behind them for fear of rebelling again. After the town of 
Barfleur was thus taken and robbed without brenning, then 
they spread abroad in the country and did what they list, for 
there was not to resist them. At last they came to a great 
and a rich town called Cherbourg: the town they won and 
robbed it, and brent part thereof, but into the castle they 
could not come, it was so strong and well furnished with men 
of war. Then they passed forth and came to Montebourg, 
and took it and robbed and brent it clean. In this manner 
they brent many other towns in that country and won so 
much riches, that it was marvel to reckon it. Then they came 
to a great town well closed called Carentan, where there was 
also a strong castle and many soldiers within to keep' it. 
Then the lords came out of their ships and fiercely made 
assault: the burgesses of the town were in great fear of their 
lives, wives and children : they suffered the Englishmen to 
enter into the town against the will of all the soldiers that 
were there; they put all their goods to the Englishmen's 



THE CAMPAIGN OF CRECY 9 

pleasures, they thought that most advantage. When the 
soldiers within saw that, they went into the castle: the 
Englishmen went into the town, and two days together they 
made sore assaults, so that when they within saw no succour, 
they yielded up, their lives and goods saved, and so departed. 
The Englishmen had their pleasure of that good town and 
castle, and when they saw they might not maintain to keep 
it, they set fire therein and brent it, and made the burgesses 
of the town to enter into their ships, as they had done with 
them of Barfleur, Cherbourg and Montebourg, and of other 
towns that they had won on the sea-side. All this was done 
by the battle that went by the sea-side, and by them on the 
sea together. 1 

Now let us speak of the king's battle. When he had sent 
his first battle along by the sea-side, as ye have heard, 
whereof one of his marshals, the earl of Warwick, was 
captain, and the lord Cobham with him, then he made his 
other marshal to lead his host on his left hand, for he knew 
the issues and entries of Normandy better than any other 
did there. The lord Godfrey as marshal rode forth with 
five hundred men of arms, and rode off from the king's 
battle as six or seven leagues, in brenning and exiling 
the country, the which was plentiful of everything — the 
granges full of corn, the houses full of all riches, rich 
burgesses, carts and chariots, horse, swine, muttons and 
other beasts: they took what them list and brought into the 
king's host; but the soldiers made no count to the king nor 
to none of his officers of the gold and silver that they did 
get; they kept that to themselves. Thus sir Godfrey of 
Harcourt rode every day off from the king's host, and for 
most part every night resorted to the king's field. The king 
took his way to Saint-Lo in Cotentin, but or he came there 
he lodged by a river, abiding for his men that rode along by 
the sea-side; and when they were come, they set forth their 
carriage, and the earl of Warwick, the earl of Suffolk, 
sir Thomas Holland and sir Raynold Cobham, and their 

1 Froissart is mistaken in supposing that a division of the land army went 
to these towns: Barfleur and Cherbourg were visited only by the fleet. Ac- 
cording to Michael of Northburgh, who accompanied the expedition, Edward 
disembarked 12th July and remained at Saint- Vaast till the 18th, and mean- 
while the fleet went to Barfleur and Cherbourg. The army arrived at Caen 
on the 26th. 



10 FROISSART'S CHRONICLES 

company rode out on the one side and wasted and exiled 
the country, as the lord Harcourt had done; and the king 
ever rode between these battles, and every night they 
lodged together. 

OF THE GREAT ASSEMBLY THAT THE FRENCH KING MADE TO 
RESIST THE KING OF ENGLAND 

Thus by the Englishmen was brent, exiled, robbed, wasted 
and pilled the good, plentiful country of Normandy. Then 
the French king sent for the lord John of Hainault, who 
came to him with a great number : also the king sent for other 
men of arms, dukes, earls, barons, knights and squires, and 
assembled together the greatest number of people that had 
been seen in France a hundred year before. He sent for men 
into so far countries, that it was long or they came together, 
wherefore the king of England did what him list in the mean 
season. The French king heard well what he did, and sware 
and said how they should never return again unfought 
withal, and that such hurts and damages as they had done 
should be dearly revenged; wherefore he had sent letters to 
his friends in the Empire, to such as were farthest off, and 
also to the gentle king of Bohemia and to the lord Charles 
his son, who from thenceforth was called king of Almaine ; 
he was made king by the aid of his father and the French 
king, and had taken on him the arms of the Empire: the 
French king desired them to come to him with all their 
powers, to the intent to fight with the king of England, who 
brent and wasted his country. These princes and lords made 
them ready with great number of men of arms, of Almains, 
Bohemians and Luxemburgers, and so came to the French 
king. Also king Philip sent to the duke of Lorraine, who 
came to serve him with three hundred spears: also there 
came the earl [of] Salm in Saumois, the earl of Sarrebruck, 
the earl of Flanders, the earl William of Namur, every 
man with a fair company. 

Ye have heard herebefore of the order of the Englishmen, 
how they went in three battles, the marshals on the right 
hand and on the left, the king and the prince of Wales his 
son in the midst. They rode but small journeys and every 



THE CAMPAIGN OF CRECY 11 

day took their lodgings between noon and three of the clock, 
and found the country so fruitful, that they needed not to 
make no provision for their host, but all only for wine; and 
yet they found reasonably sufficient thereof. 1 It was no 
marvel though they of the country were afraid, for before 
that time they had never seen men of war, nor they wist not 
what war or battle meant. They fled away as far as they 
might hear speaking of the Englishmen," and left their 
houses well stuffed, and granges full of corn, they wist not 
how to save and keep it. The king of England and the prince 
had in their battle a three thousand men of arms and six 
thousand archers and a ten thousand men afoot, beside them 
that rode with the marshals. 

Thus as ye have heard, the king rode forth, wasting and 
brenning the country without breaking of his order. He left 
the city of Coutances 8 and went to a great town called Saint- 
Lo, a rich town of drapery and many rich burgesses. In that 
town there were dwelling an eight or nine score burgesses, 
crafty men. When the king came there, he took his lodging 
without, for he would never lodge in the town for fear of 
fire: but he sent his men before and anon the town was 
taken and clean robbed. It was hard to think the great 
riches that there was won, in clothes specially; cloth would 
there have been sold good cheap, if there had been any 
buyers. 

Then the king went toward Caen, the which was a greater 
town and full of drapery and other merchandise, and rich 
burgesses, noble ladies and damosels, and fair churches, 
and specially two great and rich abbeys, one of the Trinity, 
another of Saint Stephen; and on the one side of the town 
one of the fairest castles of all Normandy, and captain 
therein was Robert of Wargny, with three hundred Geno- 
ways, and in the town was the earl of Eu and of Guines, 
constable of France, and the earl of Tancarville, with a 

1 Or rather, ' thus they found reasonably sufficient provisions.' 

2 That is, they fled as soon as they heard their coming spoken of. 

8 That is, he did not turn aside to go to it. Froissart says, ' He did not 
turn aside to the city of Coutances, but went on toward the great town of 
Saint-Lo in Cotentin, which at that time was very rich and of great mer- 
chandise and three times as great as the city of Coutances.' Michael of 
Northburgh says that Barfleur was about equal in importance to Sandwich 
and Carentan to Leicester, Saint-Lo greater than Lincoln, and Caen greater 
than any city in England except London. 



12 FROISSART'S CHRONICLES 

good number of men of war. The king of England rode that 
day in good order and lodged all his battles together that 
night, a two leagues from Caen, in a town with a little 
haven called Austrehem, and thither came also all his navy 
of ships with the earl of Huntingdon, who was governour of 
them. 

The constable and other lords of France that night 
watched well the town of Caen, and in the morning armed 
them with all them of the town : then the constable ordained 
that none should issue out, but keep their defences on the 
walls, gate, bridge and river, and left the suburbs void, 
because they were not closed; for they thought they should 
have enough to do to defend the town, because it was not 
closed but with the river. They of the town said how they 
would issue out, for they were strong enough to fight with 
the king of England. When the constable saw their good 
wills, he said : ' In the name of God be it, ye shall not fight 
without me.' Then they issued out in good order and made 
good face to fight and to defend them and to put their lives 
in adventure. 

OF THE BATTLE OF CAEN, AND HOW THE ENGLISHMEN 
TOOK THE TOWN 

The same day the Englishmen rose early and apparelled 
them ready to go to Caen. 1 The king heard mass before the 
sun-rising and then took his horse, and the prince his son, 
with sir Godfrey of Harcourt marshal and leader of the 
host, whose counsel the king much followed. Then they 
drew toward Caen with their battles in good array, and so 
approached the good town of Caen. When they of the town, 
who were ready in the field, saw these three battles coming 
in good order, with their banners and standards waving in 
the wind, and the archers, the which they had not been 
accustomed to see, they were sore afraid and fled away 
toward the town without any order or good array, for all 
that the constable could do: then the Englishmen pursued 
them eagerly. When the constable and the earl Tancarville 

x This was 26th July. Edward arrived at Poissy on 12th August: Philip 
of Valois left Paris on the 14th: the English crossed the Seine at Poissy 
on the 16th, and the Somme at Blanche-taque on the 24th. 



THE CAMPAIGN OF CRECY 13 

saw that, they took a gate at the entry and saved themselves 3 
and certain with them, for the Englishmen were entered into 
the town. Some of the knights and squires of France, such 
as knew the way to the castle, went thither, and the captain 
there received them all, for the castle was large. The 
Englishmen in the chase slew many, for they took none to 
mercy. 

Then the constable and the earl of Tancarville, being in 
the little tower at the bridge foot, looked along the street and 
saw their men slain without mercy: they doubted to fall in 
their hands. At last they saw an English knight with one 
eye called sir Thomas Holland, and a five or six other knights 
with him : they knew them, for they had seen them before in 
Pruce, in Granade, and in other viages. Then they called to 
sir Thomas and said how they would yield themselves 
prisoners. Then sir Thomas came thither with his company 
and mounted up into the gate, and there found the said lords 
with twenty-five knights with them, who yielded them to sir 
Thomas, and he took them for his prisoners and left com- 
pany to keep them, and then mounted again on his horse and 
rode into the streets, and saved many lives of ladies, 
damosels, and cloisterers from defoiling, for the soldiers 
were without mercy. It fell so well the same season for the 
Englishmen, that the river, which was able to bear ships, 
at that time was so low, that men went in and out beside 
the bridge. They of the town were entered into their houses, 
and cast down into the street stones, timber and iron, and 
slew and hurt more than five hundred Englishmen, where- 
with the king was sore displeased. At night when he heard 
thereof, he commanded that the next day all should be put 
to the sword and the town brent; but then sir Godfrey of 
Harcourt said : ' Dear sir, for God's sake assuage somewhat 
your courage, and let it suffice you that ye have done. Ye 
have yet a great voyage to do or ye come before Calais, 
whither ye purpose to go; and, sir, in this town there is 
much people who will defend their houses, and it will cost 
many of your men their lives, or ye have all at your will ; 
whereby peradventure ye shall not keep your purpose to 
Calais, the which should redound to your rack. Sir, save 

2 ' Set themselves for safety in a gate at the entry of the bridge.' 



14 FROISSART'S CHRONICLES 

your people, for ye shall have need of them or this month 
pass ; for I think verily your adversary king Philip will meet 
with you to fight, and ye shall find many straight passages and 
rencounters; wherefore your men, an ye had more, shall 
stand you in good stead : and, sir, without any further slaying 
ye shall be lord of this town; men and women will put all 
that they have to your pleasure.' Then the king said : ' Sir 
Godfrey, you are our marshal, ordain everything as ye will.' 
Then sir Godfrey with his banner rode from street to street, 
and commanded in the king's name none to be so hardy to 
put fire in any house, to slay any person, nor to violate any 
woman. When they of the town heard that cry, they re- 
ceived the Englishmen into their houses and made them 
good cheer, and some opened their coffers and bade 
them take what them list, so they might be assured of their 
lives ; howbeit there were done in the town many evil deeds, 
murders and robberies. Thus the Englishmen were lords 
of the town three days and won great riches, the which 
they sent by barks and barges to Saint-Saviour by the river 
of Austrehem, 3 a two leagues thence, whereas all their 
navy lay. Then the king sent the earl of Huntingdon with 
two hundred men of arms and four hundred archers, with his 
navy and prisoners and riches that they had got, back again 
into England. And the king bought of sir Thomas Holland 
the constable of France and the earl of Tancarville, and paid 
for them twenty thousand nobles. 

HOW SIR GODFREY OF HARCOURT FOUGHT WITH THEM OF 
AMIENS BEFORE PARIS. 

Thus the king of England ordered his business, being in 
the town of Caen, and sent into England his navy of ships 
charged with clothes, jewels, vessels of gold and silver, 
and of other riches, and of prisoners more than sixty knights 
and three hundred burgesses. Then he departed from the 
town of Caen and rode in the same order as he did before, 
brenning and exiling the country, and took the way to 

3 Froissart says that they sent their booty in barges and boats ' on the 
river as far as Austrehem, a two leagues from thence, where their great 
navy lay.' He makes no mention of Saint-Sauveur here. The river in 
question is the Orne, at the mouth of which Austrehem is situated. 



THE CAMPAIGN OF CRECY 15 

Evreux and so passed by it; and from thence they rode to a 
great town called Louviers: it was the chief town of all 
Normandy of drapery, riches, and full of merchandise. The 
Englishmen soon entered therein, for as then it was not 
closed; it was overrun, spoiled and robbed without mercy: 
there was won great riches. Then they entered into the 
country of Evreux and brent and pilled all the country 
except the good towns closed and castles, to the which the 
king made none assault, because of the sparing of his people 
and his artillery. 

On the river of Seine near to Rouen there was the earl of 
Harcourt, brother to sir Godfrey of Harcourt, but he was 
on the French party, and the earl of Dreux with him, with 
a good number of men of war: but the Englishmen left 
Rouen and went to Gisors, where was a strong castle : they 
brent the town and then they brent Vernon and all the 
country about Rouen and Pont-de-FArche and came to 
Mantes and to Meulan, and wasted all the country about, 
and passed by the strong castle of Rolleboise; and in every 
place along the river of Seine they found the bridges broken. 
At last they came to Poissy, and found the bridge broken, but 
the arches and joists lay in the river: the king lay there a 
five days : in the mean season the bridge was made, to pass 
the host without peril. The English marshals ran abroad 
just to Paris, and brent Saint-Germain in Laye and Mont- 
joie, and Saint-Cloud, and petty Boulogne by Paris, and the 
Queen's Bourg: 1 they of Paris were not well assured of 
themselves, for it was not as then closed. 

Then king Philip removed to Saint-Denis, and or he went 
caused all the pentices in Paris to be pulled down; and at 
Saint-Denis were ready come the king of Bohemia, the lord 
John of Hainault, the duke of Lorraine, the earl of Flanders, 
the earl of Blois, and many other great lords and knights, 
ready to serve the French king. When the people of Paris 
saw their king depart, they came to him and kneeled down 
and said : ' Ah, sir and noble king, what will ye do ? leave 
thus this noble city of Paris ? ' The king said : ' My good 
people, doubt ye not: the Englishmen will approach you 
no nearer than they be.' ' Why so, sir ? ' quoth they ; ' they 
1 Bourg-la-Reine. 



16 FROISSART'S CHRONICLES 

be within these two leagues, and as soon as they know of 
your departing, they will come and assail us; and we not 
able to defend them: sir, tarry here still and help to defend 
your good city of Paris.' ' Speak no more,' quoth the king, 
' for I will go to Saint-Denis to my men of war : for I will 
encounter the Englishmen and fight against them, whatso- 
ever fall thereof.' 

The king of England was at Poissy, and lay in the nunnery 
there, and kept there the feast of our Lady in August and sat 
in his robes of scarlet furred with ermines; and after that 
feast he went forth in order as they were before. The lord 
Godfrey of Harcourt rode out on the one side with five 
hundred men of arms and thirteen 2 hundred archers; and by 
adventure he encountered a great number of burgesses of 
Amiens a-horseback, who were riding by the king's com- 
mandment to Paris. They were quickly assailed and they 
defended themselves valiantly, for they were a great number 
and well armed: there were four knights of Amiens their 
captains. This skirmish dured long: at the first meeting 
many were overthrown on both parts; but finally the bur- 
gesses were taken and nigh all slain, and the Englishmen 
took all their carriages and harness. They were well stuffed, 
for they were going to the French king well appointed, be- 
cause they had not seen him a great season before. There 
were slain in the field a twelve hundred. 

Then the king of England entered into the country of 
Beauvoisis, brenning and exiling the plain country, and 
lodged at a fair abbey and a rich called Saint-Messien 3 near 
to Beauvais : there the king tarried a night and in the morn- 
ing departed. And when he was on his way he looked be- 
hind him and saw the abbey a-fire : he caused incontinent 
twenty of them to be hanged that set the fire there, for he 
had commanded before on pain of death none to violate any 
church nor to bren any abbey. Then the king passed by the 
city of Beauvais without any assault giving, for because he 
would not trouble his people nor waste his artillery. And so 
that day he took his lodging betime in a little town called 
Milly. The two marshals came so near to Beauvais, that 

2 A better reading is ' twelve.' 

3 Commonly called Saint-Lucien, but Saint-Maximianus (Messien) is also 
associated with the place. 



THE CAMPAIGN OF CRECY 17 

they made assault and skirmish at the barriers in three 
places, the which assault endured a long space ; but the town 
within was so well defended by the means of the bishop, 
who was there within, that finally the Englishmen departed, 
and brent clean hard to the gates all the suburbs, and then at 
night they came into the king's field. 

The next day the king departed, brenning and wasting all 
before him, and at night lodged in a good village called 
Grandvilliers. The next day the king passed by Dargies: 
there was none to defend the castle, wherefore it was soon 
taken and brent. Then they went forth destroying the 
country all about, and so came to the castle of Poix, where 
there was a good town and two castles. There was nobody 
in them but two fair damosels, daughters to the lord of 
Poix; they were soon taken, and had been violated, an two 
English knights had not been, sir John Chandos and sir 
Basset; they defended them and brought them to the king, 
who for his honour made them good cheer and demanded of 
them whither they would fainest go. They said, ' To Corbie,' 
and the king caused them to be brought thither without 
peril. That night the king lodged in the town of Poix. They 
of the town and of the castles spake that night with the mar- 
shals of the host, to save them and their town from bren- 
ning, and they to pay a certain sum of florins the next day 
as soon as the host was departed. This was granted them, 
and in the morning the king departed with all his host except 
a certain that were left there to receive the money that they 
of the town had promised to pay. When they of the town 
saw the host depart and but a few left behind, then they said 
they would pay never a penny, and so ran out and set on the 
Englishmen, who defended themselves as well as they might 
and sent after the host for succour. When sir Raynold Cob- 
ham and sir Thomas Holland, who had the rule of the rear- 
guard, heard thereof, they returned and cried, ' Treason, 
treason ! ' and so came again to Poix-ward and found their 
companions still fighting with them of the town. Then anon 
they of the town were nigh all slain, and the town brent, and 
the two castles beaten down. Then they returned to the 
king's host, who was as then at Airaines and there lodged, 
and had commanded all manner of men on pain of death 



18 FROISSART'S CHRONICLES 

to do no hurt to no town of Arsyn,* for there the king was 
minded to lie a day or two to take advice how he might pass 
the river of Somme; for it was necessary for him to pass the 
river, as ye shall hear after. 

HOW THE FRENCH KING FOLLOWED THE KING OF ENGLAND 
IN BEAUVOISINOIS 

Now let us speak of King Philip, who was at Sant-Denis 
and his people about him, and daily increased. Then on 
a day he departed and rode so long that he came to Cop- 
pegueule, a three leagues from Amiens, and there he tarried. 
The king of England being at Airaines wist not where for 
to pass the river of Somme, the which was large and deep, 
and all bridges were broken and the passages well kept. 
Then at the king's commandment his two marshals with a 
thousand men of arms and two thousand archers went along 
the river to find some passage, and passed by Longpre, 
and came to the bridge of Remy, 1 the which was well kept 
with a great number of knights and squires and men of the 
country. The Englishmen alighted afoot and assailed the 
Frenchmen from the morning till it was noon ; but the bridge 
was so well fortified and defended, that the Englishmen de- 
parted without winning of anything. Then they went to a 
great town called Fountains on the river of Somme, the which 
was clean robbed and brent, for it was not closed. Then 
they went to another town called Long-en-Ponthieu ; they 
could not win the bridge, it was so well kept and defended. 
Then they departed and went to Picquigny, and found the 
town, the bridge, and the castle so well fortified, that 
it was not likely to pass there: the French king had so 
well defended the passages, to the intent that the king of 
England should not pass the river of Somme, to fight with 
him at his advantage or else to famish him there. 

When these two marshals had assayed in all places to 
find passage and could find none, they returned again to 

*A mistranslation. The original is '[il avoit] deffendu sus le hart que 
nuls ne fourfesist rien a le ville d'arsin ne d'autre cose,' ' he had com- 
manded all on pain of hanging to do no hurt to the town by burning or 
otherwise.' The translator has taken ' arsin ' for a proper name. 

1 Pont-a-Remy, corrupted here into ' bridge of Athyne.' 



The charge of the French Knights 

against the English bowmen 

at the Battle of Crecy 

From the painting by R. Caton Woodville 



THE CAMPAIGN OF CRECY 19 

the king, and shewed how they could find no passage in no 
place. The same night the French king came to Amiens 
with more than a hundred thousand men. The king of 
England was right pensive, and the next morning heard 
mass before the sun-rising and then dislodged; and every 
man followed the marshals' banners and so rode in the coun- 
try of Vimeu approaching to the good town of Abbeville, and 
found a town thereby, whereunto was come much people of 
the country in trust of a little defence that was there; but 
the Englishmen anon won it, and all they that were within 
slain, and many taken of the town and of the country. The 
king took his lodging in a great hospital 3 that was there. 
The same day the French king departed from Amiens and 
came to Airaines about noon ; and the Englishmen were 
departed thence in the morning. The Frenchmen found 
there great provision that the Englishmen had left behind 
them, because they departed in haste. There they found 
flesh ready on the broaches, bread and pasties in the ovens, 
wine in tuns and barrels, and the tables ready laid. There 
the French king lodged and tarried for his lords. 

That night the king of England was lodged at Oisemont. 
At night when the two marshals were returned, who had 
that day overrun the country to the gates of Abbeville and 
to Saint- Valery and made a great skirmish there, then the 
king assembled together his council and made to be brought 
before him certain prisoners of the country of Ponthieu 
and of Vimeu. The king right courteously demanded of 
them, if there were any among them that knew any passage 
beneath Abbeville, that he and his host might pass over 
the river of Somme : if he would shew him thereof, he 
should be quit of his ransom, and twenty of his company 
for his love. There was a varlet called Gobin Agace who 
stepped forth and said to the king : ' Sir, I promise you on 
the jeopardy of my head I shall bring you to such a place, 
whereas ye and all your host shall pass the river of Somme 
without peril. There be certain places in the passage that 
ye shall pass twelve men afront two times between day and 
night : ye shall not go in the water to the knees. But when 
the flood cometh, the river then waxeth so great, that no 

s That is, a house of the knights of Saint John. 



20 FROISSART'S CHRONICLES 

man can pass; but when the flood is gone, the which is two 
times between day and night, then the river is so low, that 
it may be passed without danger both a-horseback and afoot. 
The passage is hard in the bottom with white stones, so 
that all your carriage may go surely; therefore the passage 
is called Blanche-taque. An ye make ready to depart be- 
times, ye may be there by the sun-rising.' The king said: ' If 
this be true that ye say, I quit thee thy ransom and all thy 
company, and moreover shall give thee a hundred nobles.' 
Then the king commanded every man to be ready at the 
sound of the trumpet to depart. 

OF THE BATTLE OF BLANCHE-TAQUE BETWEEN THE KING OF 
ENGLAND AND SIR GODEMAR DU FAY 

The king of England slept notjnuch that night, for at mid- 
night he arose and sowned his trumpet : then incontinent they 
made ready carriages and all things, and at the breaking 
of the day they departed from the town of Oisemont and 
rode after the guiding of Gobin Agace, so that they came 
by the sun-rising to Blanche-taque ; but as then the flood was 
up, so that they might not pass : so the king tarried there 
till it was prime; then the ebb came. 

The French king had his currours in the country, who 
brought him word of the demeanour of the Englishmen. 
Then he thought to close the king of England between 
Abbeville and the river of Somme, and so to fight with him 
at his pleasure. And when he was at Amiens he had 
ordained a great baron of Normandy, called sir Godemar 
da Fay, to go and keep the passage of Blanche-taque, where 
the Englishmen must pass or else in none other place. He 
had with him a thousand men of arms and six thousand 
afoot, with the Genoways: so they went by Saint-Riquier 
in Ponthieu and from thence to Crotoy, whereas the passage 
lay; and also he had with him a great number of men of the 
country, and also a great number of them of Montreuil, so 
that they were a twelve thousand men one and other. 

When the English host was come thither, sir Godemar du 
Fay arranged all his company to defend the passage. The 
king of England let not for all that; but when the flood 



THE CAMPAIGN OF CRECY 21 

w£s gone, he commanded his marshals to enter into the water 
in the name of God and Saint George. Then they that 
were hardy and courageous entered on both parties, and 
many a man reversed. There were some of the Frenchmen 
of Artois and Picardy that were as glad to joust in the 
water as on the dry land. 

The Frenchmen defended so well the passage at the issu- 
ing out of the water, that they had much to do. The Geno- 
ways did them great trouble with their cross-bows: on the 
other side the archers of England shot so wholly together, 
that the Frenchmen were fain to give place to the English- 
men. There was a sore battle, and many a noble feat of 
arms done on both sides. Finally the Englishmen passed 
over and assembled together in the field. The king and the 
prince passed, and all the lords; then the Frenchmen kept 
none array, but departed, he that might best. When sir Gode- 
mar saw that discomfiture, he fled and saved himself: some 
fled to Abbeville and some to Saint-Riquiers. They that were 
there afoot could not flee, so that there were slain a great 
number of them of Abbeville, Montreuil, Rue and of Saint- 
Riquiers : the chase endured more than a great league. And 
as yet all the Englishmen were not passed the river, and 
certain currours of the king of Bohemia and of sir John 
of Hainault came on them that were behind and took cer- 
tain horses and carriages and slew divers, or they could 
take the passage. 

The French king the same morning was departed from 
Airaines, trusting to have found the Englishmen between 
him and the river of Somme : but when he heard how that sir 
Godemar du Fay and his company were discomfited, he 
tarried in the field and demanded of his marshals what 
was best to do. They said, ' Sir, ye cannot pass the 
river but at the bridge of Abbeville, for the flood is 
come in at Blanche-taque' : then he returned and lodged 
at Abbeville. 

The king of England when he was past the river, he 
thanked God and so rode forth in like manner as he did 
before. Then he called Gobin Agace and did quit him his 
ransom and all his company, and gave him a hundred nobles 
and a good horse. And so the king rode forth fair and 



22 FROISSART'S CHRONICLES 

easily, and thought to have lodged in a great town called 
Noyelles; but when he knew that the town pertained to 
the countess d'Aumale, sister to the lord Robert of Artois, 1 
the king assured the town and country as much as per- 
tained to her, and so went forth; and his marshals rode to 
Crotoy on the sea-side and brent the town, and found in 
the haven many ships and barks charged with wines of 
Poitou, pertaining to the merchants of Saintonge and of 
Rochelle: they brought the best thereof to the king's host. 
Then one of the marshals rode to the gates of Abbeville and 
from thence to Saint-Riquiers, and after to the town of 
Rue-Saint-Esprit This was on a Friday, and both battles 
of the marshals returned to the king's host about noon and so 
lodged all together near to Cressy in Ponthieu. 

The king of England was well informed how the French 
king followed after him to fight. Then he said to his com- 
pany : ' Let us take here some plot of ground, for we will 
go no farther till we have seen our enemies. I have good 
cause here to abide them, for I am on the right heritage of 
the queen my mother, the which land was given at her mar- 
riage : I will challenge it of mine adversary Philip of 
Valois.' And because that he had not the eighth part in 
number of men as the French king had, therefore he com- 
manded his marshals to chose a plot of ground somewhat 
for his advantage : and so they did, and thither the king 
and his host went. Then he sent his currours to Abbeville, 
to see if the French king drew that day into the field or 
not. They went forth and returned again, and said how 
they could see none appearance of his coming: then every 
man took their lodging for that day, and to be ready in 
the morning at the sound of the trumpet in the same place. 
This Friday the French king tarried still in Abbeville abid- 
ing for his company, and sent his two marshals to ride out 
to see the dealing of the Englishmen, and at night they 
returned, and said how the Englishmen were lodged in the 
fields. That night the French king made a supper to all 
the chief lords that were there with him, and after supper 
the king desired them to be friends each to other. The 
king looked for the earl of Savoy, who should come to 

1 She was in fact his daughter. 



THE CAMPAIGN OF CRECY 23 

him with a thousand spears, for he had received wages for 
a three months of them at Troyes in Champagne. 

OF THE ORDER OF THE ENGLISHMEN AT CRESSY, AND 
HOW THEY MADE THREE BATTLES AFOOT 

On the Friday, as I said before, the king of England lay 
in the fields, for the country was plentiful of wines and 
other victual, and if need had been, they had provision 
following in carts and other carriages. That night the king 
made a supper to all his chief lords of his host and made 
them good cheer; and when they were all departed to take 
their rest, then the king entered into his oratory and kneeled 
down before the altar, praying God devoutly, that if he 
fought the next day, that he might achieve the journey 
to his honour: then about midnight he laid him down to 
rest, and in the morning he rose betimes and heard mass, 
and the prince his son with him, and the most part of his 
company were confessed and houselled; and after the mass 
said, he commanded every man to be armed and to draw 
to the field to the same place before appointed. Then the 
king caused a park to be made by the wood side behind his 
host, and there was set all carts and carriages, and within the 
park were all their horses, for every man was afoot; and 
into this park there was but one entry. Then he ordained 
three battles: in the first was the young prince of Wales, 
with him the earl of Warwick and Oxford, the lord God- 
frey of Harcourt, sir Raynold Cobham, sir Thomas Holland, 
the lord Stafford, the lord of Mohun, the lord Delaware, sir 
John Chandos, sir Bartholomew de Burghersh, sir Robert 
Nevill, the lord Thomas Clifford, the lord Bourchier, the 
lord de Latimer, and divers other knights and squires that 
I cannot name: they were an eight hundred men of arms 
and two thousand archers, and a thousand of other with 
the Welshmen: every lord drew to the field appointed 
under his own banner and pennon. In the second battle 
was the earl of Northampton, the earl of Arundel, the lord 
Ros, the lord Lucy, the lord Willoughby, the lord Basset, 
the lord of Saint-Aubin, sir Louis Tufton, the lord of 
Multon, the lord Lascelles and divers other, about an eight 

(b) hc xxxv 



24 FROISSART'S CHRONICLES 

hundred men of arms and twelve hundred archers. The 
third battle had the king : he had seven hundred men of arms 
and two thousand archers. Then the king leapt on a hobby, 1 
with a white rod in his hand, one of his marshals on the 
one hand and the other on the other hand : he rode from 
rank to rank desiring every man to take heed that day to his 
right and honour. He spake it so sweetly and with so good 
countenance and merry cheer, that all such as were discom- 
fited took courage in the seeing and hearing of him. And 
when he had thus visited all his battles, it was then nine 
of the day: then he caused every man to eat and drink a 
little, and so they did at their leisure. And afterward they 
ordered again their battles : then every man lay down on the 
earth and by him his salet and bow, to be the more fresher 
when their enemies should come. 

THE ORDER OF THE FRENCHMEN AT CRESSY, AND HOW THEY 
BEHELD THE DEMEANOUR OF THE ENGLISHMEN 

This Saturday the French king rose betimes and heard 
mass in Abbeville in his lodging in the abbey of Saint 
Peter, and he departed after the sun-rising. When he was 
out of the town two leagues, approaching toward his enemies, 
some of his lords said to him: 'Sir, it were good that ye 
ordered your battles, and let all your footmen pass some- 
what on before, that they be not troubled with the horse- 
men.' Then the king sent four knights, the Moine [of] 
Bazeilles, the lord of Noyers, the lord of Beaujeu and the 
lord d'Aubigny to ride to aview the English host; and so 
they rode so near that they might well see part of their 
dealing. The Englishmen saw them well and knew well 
how they were come thither to aview them: they let them 
alone and made no countenance toward them, and let them 
return as they came. And when the French king saw these 
four knights return again, he tarried till they came to him 
and said : ' Sirs, what tidings ? ' These four knights each 
of them looked on other, for there was none would speak 
before his companion; finally the king said to [the] Moine, 
who pertained to the king of Bohemia and had done in his 

1 ' Un petit palefroi.' 



THE CAMPAIGN OF CRECY 25 

days so much, that he was reputed for one of the valiantest 
knights of the world: 'Sir, speak you.' Then he said: 
' Sir, I shall speak, sith it pleaseth you, under the correction 
of my fellows. Sir, we have ridden and seen the behaving 
of your enemies : know ye for truth they are rested in three 
battles abiding for you. Sir, I will counsel you as for my 
part, saving your displeasure, that you and all your company 
rest here and lodge for this night: for or they that be be- 
hind of your company be come hither, and or your battles 
be set in good order, it will be very late, and your people 
be weary and out of array, and ye shall find your enemies 
fresh and ready to receive you. Early in the morning 
ye may order your battles at more leisure and advise your 
enemies at more deliberation, and to regard well what 
way ye will assail them; for, sir, surely they will abide 
you.' 

Then the king commanded that it should be so done. Then 
his two marshals one rode before, another behind, saying 
to every banner : ' Tarry and abide here in the name of 
God and Saint Denis.' They that were foremost tarried, 
but they that were behind would not tarry, but rode forth, 
and said how they would in no wise abide till they were as 
far forward as the foremost: and when they before saw 
them come on behind, then they rode forward again, so 
that the king nor his marshals could not rule them. So they 
rode without order or good array, till they came in sight of 
their enemies : and as soon as the foremost saw them, they 
reculed then aback without good array, whereof they be- 
hind had marvel and were abashed, and thought that the 
foremost company had been fighting. Then they might 
have had leisure and room to have gone forward, if they 
had list: some went forth and some abode still. The com- 
mons, of whom all the ways between Abbeville and Cressy 
were full, when they saw that they were near to their 
enemies, they took their swords and cried : ' Down with 
them! let us slay them all.' There is no man, though he 
were present at the journey, that could imagine or shew 
the truth of the evil order that was among the French 
party, and yet they were a marvellous great number. That 
I write in this book I learned it specially of the Englishmen, 



26 FROISSART'S CHRONICLES 

who well beheld their dealing; and also certain knights of 
sir John of Hainault's, who was always about king Philip, 
shewed me as they knew. 



OF THE BATTLE OF CRESSY BETWEEN THE KING OF 
ENGLAND AND THE FRENCH KING 

The Englishmen, who were in three battles lying on the 
ground to rest them, as soon as they saw the Frenchmen 
approach, they rose upon their feet fair and easily without 
any haste and arranged their battles. The first, which was 
the prince's battle, the archers there stood in manner of 
a herse and the men of arms in the bottom of the battle. 
The earl of Northampton and the earl of Arundel with the 
second battle were on a wing in good order, ready to com- 
fort the prince's battle, if need were. 

The lords and knights of France came not to the assembly 
together in good order, for some came before and some 
came after in such haste and evil order, that one of them 
did trouble another. When the French king saw the En- 
glishmen, his blood changed, and said to his marshals : ' Make 
the Genoways go on before and begin the battle in the 
name of God and Saint Denis.' There were of the Geno- 
ways cross-bows about a fifteen thousand, 1 but they were 
so weary of going afoot that day a six leagues armed with 
their cross-bows, that they said to their constables : ' We be 
not well ordered to fight this day, for we be not in the case 
to do any great deed of arms: we have more need of rest.' 
These words came to the earl of Alencon, who said : ' A 
man is well at ease to be charged with such a sort of ras- 
cals, to be faint and fail now at most need.' Also the same 
season there fell a great rain and a clipse* with a terrible 
thunder, and before the rain there came flying over both 
battles a great number of crows for fear of the tempest 
coming. Then anon the air began to wax clear, and the 
sun to shine fair and bright, the which was right in the 
Frenchmen's eyen and on the Englishmen's backs. When 

1 Villani, a very good authority on the subject, says 6000, brought from 
the ships at Harfleur. 

a A mistranslation of ' une esclistre,' ' a flash of lightning.' 



THE CAMPAIGN OF CRECY 27 

the Genoways were assembled together and began to ap- 
proach, they made a great leap* and cry to abash the En- 
glishmen, but they stood still and stirred not for all that: 
then the Genoways again the second time made another 
leap and a fell cry, and stept forward a little, and the En- 
glishmen removed not one foot: thirdly, again they leapt 
and cried, and went forth till they came within shot; then 
they shot fiercely with their cross-bows. Then the English 
archers stept forth one pace and let fly their arrows so 
wholly [together] and so thick, that it seemed snow. When 
the Genoways felt the arrows piercing through heads, arms 
and breasts, many of them cast down their cross-bows and 
did cut their strings and returned discomfited. When the 
French king saw them fly away, he said : ' Slay these ras- 
cals, for they shall let and trouble us without reason.' Then 
ye should have seen the men of arms dash in among them 
and killed a great number of them : and ever still the English- 
men shot whereas they saw thickest press ; the sharp arrows 
ran into the men of arms and into their horses, and many 
fell, horse and men, among the Genoways, and when they 
were down, they could not relieve 4 again, the press was so 
thick that one overthrew another. And also among the 
Englishmen there were certain rascals that went afoot with 
great knives, and they went in among the men of arms, 
and slew and murdered many as they lay on the ground, 
both earls, barons, knights and squires, whereof the king 
of England was after displeased, for he had rather they had 
been taken prisoners. 

The valiant king of Bohemia called Charles of Luxem- 
bourg, son to the noble emperor Henry of Luxembourg, for 
all that he was nigh blind, when he understood the order 
of the battle, he said to them about him : ' Where is the 
lord Charles my son ? ' His men said : ' Sir, we cannot tell ; 
we think he be fighting.' Then he said : ' Sirs, ye are my 

8 These ' leaps ' of the Genoese are invented by the translator, and have 
passed from him into several respectable English text-books, sometimes in 
company with the eclipse above mentioned. Froissart says: ' II commen- 
cierent a juper moult epouvantablement '; that is, 'to utter cries.' Another 
text makes mention of the English cannons at this point: ' The English 
remained still and let off some cannons that they had, to frighten the 
Genoese.' 

* The translator's word ' relieve ' (relyuue) represents ' relever,' for ' se 
relever.' 



28 FROISSART'S CHRONICLES 

men, my companions and friends in this journey: I require 
you bring me so far forward, that I may strike one 
stroke with my sword.' They said they would do his com- 
mandment, and to the intent that they should not lose him in 
the press, they tied all their reins of their bridles each to 
other and set the king before to accomplish his desire, and 
so they went on their enemies. The lord Charles of Bo- 
hemia his son, who wrote himself king of Almaine and bare 
the arms, he came in good order to the battle; but when he 
saw that the matter went awry on their party, he departed, 
I cannot tell you which way. The king his father was so 
far forward that he strake a stroke with his sword, yea 
and more than four, and fought valiantly and so did his 
company; and they adventured themselves so forward, that 
they were there all slain, and the next day they were 
found in the place about the king, and all their horses tied 
each to other. 

The earl of Alencon came to the battle right ordinately 
and fought with the Englishmen, and the earl of Flanders 
also on his part. These two lords with their companies 
coasted the English archers and came to the prince's battle, 
and there fought valiantly long. The French king would 
fain have come thither, when he saw their banners, but 
there was a great hedge of archers before him. The same 
day the French king had given a great black courser to sir 
John of Hainault, and he made the lord Tierry of Senzeille 
to ride on him and to bear his banner. The same horse 
took the bridle in the teeth and brought him through 
all the currours of the Englishmen, and as he would have 
returned again, he fell in a great dike and was sore hurt, 
and had been there dead, an his page had not been, who 
followed him through all the battles and saw where his 
master lay in the dike, and had none other let but for 
his horse, for the Englishmen would not issue out of 
their battle for taking of any prisoner. Then the page 
alighted and relieved his master: then he went not back 
again the same way that they came, there was too many 
in his way. 

This battle between Broye and Cressy this Saturday was 
right cruel and fell, and many a feat of arms done that came 



THE CAMPAIGN OF CRECY 29 

not to my knowledge. In the night 6 divers knights and 
squires lost their masters, and sometime came on the 
Englishmen, who received them in such wise that they were 
ever nigh slain; for there was none taken to mercy nor to 
ransom, for so the Englishmen were determined. 

In the morning 6 the day of the battle certain Frenchmen 
and Almains perforce opened the archers of the prince's 
battle and came and fought with the men of arms hand to 
hand. Then the second battle of the Englishmen came to 
succour the prince's battle, the which was time, for they 
had as then much ado ; and they with the prince sent a 
messenger to the king, who was on a little windmill hill. 
Then the knight said to the king : ' Sir, the earl of Warwick 
and the earl of Oxford, sir Raynold Cobham and other, 
such as be about the prince your son, are fiercely fought 
withal and are sore handled; wherefore they desire you 
that you and your battle will come and aid them; for if 
the Frenchmen increase, as they doubt they will, your son 
and they shall have much ado.' Then the king said : ' Is 
my son dead or hurt or on the earth felled ? ' ' No, sir/ 
quoth the knight, 'but he is hardly matched; wherefore he 
hath need of your aid.' ' Well,' said the king, ' return to 
him and to them that sent you hither, and say to them that 
they send no more to me for any adventure that falleth, 
as long as my son is alive: and also say to them that they 
suffer him this day to win his spurs; 7 for if God be pleased, 
I will this journey be his and the honour thereof, and to 
them that be about him.' Then the knight returned again 
to them and shewed the king's words, the which greatly 
encouraged them, and repoined 8 in that they had sent to 
the king as they did. 

Sir Godfrey of Harcourt would gladly that the earl of 
Harcourt his brother might have been saved; for he heard 
say by them that saw his banner how that he was there in 
the field on the French party: but sir Godfrey could not 

B ' Sus le nuit,' ' towards nightfall.' 

6 The text has suffered by omissions. What Froissart says is that if the 
battle had begun in the morning, it might have gone better for the French, 
and then he instances the exploits of those who broke through the archers. 
The battle did not begin till four o'clock in the afternoon. 

* ' Que il laissent a l'enfant gaegnier ses esperons.' 

8 i. e. ' they repoined ' : Fr. ' se reprisent.' 



30 FROISSART'S CHRONICLES 

come to him betimes, for he was slain or he could come at 
him, and so was also the earl of Aumale his nephew. In 
another place the earl of Alenqon and the earl of Flanders 
fought valiantly, every lord under his own banner; but 
finally they could not resist against the puissance of the 
Englishmen, and so there they were also slain, and divers 
other knights and squires. Also the earl Louis of Blois, 
nephew to the French king, and the duke of Lorraine 
fought under their banners, but at last they were closed in 
among a company of Englishmen and Welshmen, and there 
were slain for all their prowess. Also there was slain 
the earl of Auxerre, the earl of Saint- Pol and many other. 

In the evening the French king, who had left about him 
no more than a three-score persons, one and other, whereof 
sir John of Hainault was one, who had remounted once 
the king, for his horse was slain with an arrow, then he 
said to the king: 'Sir, depart hence, for it is time; lose 
not yourself wilfully: if ye have loss at this time, ye shall 
recover it again another season.' And so he took the king's 
horse by the bridle and led him away in a manner perforce. 
Then the king rode till he came to the castle of Broye. The 
gate was closed, because it was by that time dark: then the 
king called the captain, who came to the walls and said : Who 
is that calleth there this time of night?' Then the king 
said: 'Open your gate quickly, for this is the fortune of 
France.' 8 The captain knew then it was the king, and 
opened the gate and let down the bridge. Then the king 
entered, and he had with him but five barons, sir John of 
Hainault, sir Charles of Montmorency, the lord of Beaujeu, 
the lord d'Aubigny and the lord of Montsault. The king 
would not tarry there, but drank and departed thence about 
midnight, and so rode by such guides as knew the country 
till he came in the morning to Amiens, and there he rested. 

This Saturday the Englishmen never departed from their 
battles for chasing of any man, but kept still their field, 
and ever defended themselves against all such as came to 
assail them. This battle ended about evensong time. 

8 'C'est la fortune de France': but the better MSS. have ' c'est li in- 
fortunes rois de France.' 



THE CAMPAIGN OF CRECY 31 



HOW THE NEXT DAY AFTER THE BATTLE THE ENGLISHMEN 
DISCOMFITED DIVERS FRENCHMEN 

On this Saturday, when the night was come and that the 
Englishmen heard no more noise of the Frenchmen, then 
they reputed themselves to have the victory, and the French- 
men to be discomfited, slain and fled away. Then they made 
great fires and lighted up torches and candles, because it 
was very dark. Then the king avaled down from the little 
hill whereas he stood; and of all that day till then his helm 
came never on his head. Then he went with all his battle 
to his son the prince and enbraced him in his arms and 
kissed him, and said : ' Fair son, God give you good per- 
severance; ye are my good son, thus ye have acquitted you 
nobly: ye are worthy to keep a realm.' The prince inclined 
himself to the earth, honouring the king his father. 

This night they thanked God for their good adventure 
and made no boast thereof, for the king would that no man 
should be proud or make boast, but every man humbly to 
thank God. On the Sunday in the morning there was 
such a mist, that a man might not see the breadth of an acre 
of land from him. Then there departed from the host by 
the commandment of the king and marshals five hundred 
spears and two thousand archers, to see if they might see 
any Frenchmen gathered again together in any place. The 
same morning out of Abbeville and Saint-Riquiers in Pon- 
thieu the commons of Rouen and of Beauvais issued out 
of their towns, not knowing of the discomfiture of the day 
before. They met with the Englishmen weening they had 
been Frenchmen, and when the Englishmen saw them, they 
set on them freshly, and there was a sore battle; but at last 
the Frenchmen fled and kept none array. There were slain 
in the ways and in hedges and bushes more than seven 
thousand, and if the day had been clear there had never 
a one escaped. Anon after, another company of Frenchmen 
were met by the Englishmen, the archbishop of Rouen and 
the great prior of France, who also knew nothing of the dis- 
comfiture the day before ; for they heard that the French 
king should have fought the same Sunday, and they were go- 



32 FROISSART'S CHRONICLES 

ing thitherward. When they met with the Englishmen, there 
was a great battle, for they were a great number, but they 
could not endure against the Englishmen; for they were 
nigh all slain, few escaped; the two lords were slain. 
This morning the Englishmen met with divers Frenchmen 
that had lost their way on the Saturday and had lain all 
night in the fields, and wist not where the king was nor the 
captains. They were all slain, as many as were met with; 
and it was shewed me that of the commons and men afoot 
of the cities and good towns of France there was slain four 
times as many as were slain the Saturday in the great 
battle. 



HOW THE NEXT DAY AFTER THE BATTLE OF CRESSY THEY THAT 

WERE DEAD WERE NUMBERED BY THE 

ENGLISHMEN 

The same Sunday, as the king of England came from mass, 
such as had been sent forth returned and shewed the king 
what they had seen and done, and said : ' Sir, we think 
surely there is now no more appearance of any of our 
enemies.' Then the king sent to search how many were 
slain and what they were. Sir Raynold Cobham and sir 
Richard Stafford with three heralds went to search the 
field and country: they visited all them that were slain and 
rode all day in the fields, and returned again to the host as 
the king was going to supper. They made just report of that 
they had seen, and said how there were eleven great princes 
dead, fourscore banners, twelve hundred knights, and more 
than thirty thousand other. 1 The Englishmen kept still 
their field all that night: on the Monday in the morning the 
king prepared to depart: the king caused the dead bodies 
of the great lords to be taken up and conveyed to Mont- 
reuil, and there buried in holy ground, and made a cry in 
the country to grant truce for three days, to the intent 

1 Another text makes the loss of persons below the rank of knight 15,000 
or 16,000, including the men of the towns. Both estimates must be greatly 
exaggerated. Michael of Northburgh says that 1542 were killed in the 
battle and about 2000 on the next day. The great princes killed were the 
king of Bohemia, the duke of Lorraine, the earls of Alengon, Flanders, 
Blois, Auxerre, Harcourt, Saint-Pol, Aumale, the grand prior of France 
and the archbishop of Rouen. 



THE CAMPAIGN OF CRECY 33 

that they of the country might search the field of Cressy to 
bury the dead bodies. 

Then the king went forth and came before the town of 
Montreuil-by-the-sea, and his marshals ran toward Hesdin 
and brent Waben and Serain, but they did nothing to the 
castle, it was so strong and so well kept. They lodged that 
night on the river of Hesdin towards Blangy. The next 
day they rode toward Boulogne and came to the town of 
Wissant: there the king and the prince lodged, and tarried 
there a day to refresh his men, and on the Wednesday the 
king came before the strong town of Calais. 



THE BATTLE OF POITIERS 



OF THE GREAT HOST THAT THE FRENCH KING BROUGHT 
TO THE BATTLE OF POITIERS 

AFTER the taking of the castle of Romorantin and of 
ZA them that were therein, the prince then and his com- 
-*-A_ pany rode as they did before, destroying the country, 
approaching to Anjou and to Touraine. The French king, who 
was at Chartres, departed and came to Blois and there tarried 
two days, and then to Amboise and the next day to Loches : 
and then he heard how that the prince was at Touraine 1 and 
how that he was returning by Poitou: ever the Englishmen 
were coasted by certain expert knights of France, who 
alway made report to the king what the Englishmen did. 
Then the king came to the Haye in Touraine and his men 
had passed the river of Loire, some at the bridge of Or- 
leans and some at Meung, at Saumur, at Blois, and at Tours 
and whereas they might: they were in number a twenty 
thousand men of arms beside other; there were a twenty- 
six dukes and earls and more than sixscore banners, and 
the four sons of the king, who were but young, the duke 
Charles of Normandy, the lord Louis, that was from thence- 
forth duke of Anjou, and the lord John duke of Berry, and 
the lord Philip, who was after duke of Burgoyne. The same 
season, pope Innocent the sixth sent the lord Bertrand, 
cardinal of Perigord, and the lord Nicholas, cardinal of 
Urgel, into France, to treat for a peace between the French 
king and all his enemies, first between him and the king of 
Navarre, who was in prison: and these cardinals oftentimes 
spake to the king for his deliverance during the siege at 
Bretuel, but they could do nothing in that behalf. Then the 
cardinal of Perigord went to Tours, and there he heard 

1 ' En Touraine.' 
34 



THE BATTLE OF POITIERS 35 

how the French king hasted sore to find the Englishmen: 
then he rode to Poitiers, for he heard how both the hosts 
drew thitherward. 

The French king heard how the prince hasted greatly to 
return, and the king feared that he should scape him and 
so departed from Haye in Touraine, and all his company, 
and rode to Chauvigny, where he tarried that Thursday in 
the town and without along by the river of Creuse, and the 
next day the king passed the river at the bridge there, ween- 
ing that the Englishmen had been before him, but they were 
not. Howbeit they pursued after and passed the bridge that 
day more than threescore thousand horses, and divers other 
passed at Chatelleraut, and ever as they passed they took 
the way to Poitiers. 

On the other side the prince wist not truly where the 
Frenchmen were; but they supposed that they were not far 
off, for they could not find no more forage, whereby they 
had great fault in their host of victual, and some of them 
repented that they had destroyed so much as they had done 
before when they were in Berry, Anjou and Touraine, and 
in that they had made no better provision. The same Friday 
three great lords of France, the lord of Craon, the lord 
Raoul of Coucy and the earl of Joigny, tarried all day in 
the town of Chauvigny, and part of their companies. The 
Saturday they passed the bridge and followed the king, who 
was then a three leagues before, and took the way among 
bushes without a wood side to go- to Poitiers. 

The same Saturday the prince and his company dislodged 
from a little village thereby, and sent before him certain 
currours to see if they might find any adventure and to hear 
where the Frenchmen were. They were in number a three- 
score men of arms well horsed, and with them was the lord 
Eustace d'Aubrecicourt and the lord John of Ghistelles, and 
by adventure the Englishmen and Frenchmen met together 
by the foresaid wood side. The Frenchmen knew anon how 
they were their enemies; then in haste they did on their 
helmets and displayed their banners and came a great pace 
towards the Englishmen: they were in number a two hun- 
dred men of arms. When the Englishmen saw them, and 
that they were so great a number, then they determined to 



36 FROISSART'S CHRONICLES 

fly and let the Frenchmen chase them, for they knew well 
the prince with his host was not far behind. Then they 
turned their horses and took the corner of the wood, and 
the Frenchmen after them crying their cries and made great 
noise. And as they chased, they came on the prince's battle 
or they were ware thereof themselves; the prince tarried 
there to have word again from them that he sent forth. 
The lord Raoul de Coucy with his banner went so far for- 
ward that he was under the prince's banner: there was a 
sore battle and the knight fought valiantly; howbeit he 
was there taken, and the earl of Joigny, the viscount of 
Brosse, the lord of Chauvigny and all the other taken or 
slain, but a few that scaped. And by the prisoners the 
prince knew how the French king followed him in such wise 
that he could not eschew the battle : a then he assembled 
together all his men and commanded that no man should go 
before the marshals' banners. Thus the prince rode that 
Saturday from the morning till it was against night, so that 
he came within two little leagues of Poitiers. Then the 
captal de Buch, sir Aymenion of Pommiers, the lord Bartho- 
lomew of Burghersh and the lord Eustace d'Aubrecicourt, 
all these the prince sent forth to see if they might know 
what the Frenchmen did. These knights departed with two 
hundred men of arms well horsed: they rode so far that they 
saw the great battle of the king's, they saw all the fields 
covered with men of arms. These Englishmen could not 
forbear, but set on the tail of the French host and cast down 
many to the earth and took divers prisoners, so that the 
host began to stir, and tidings thereof came to the French 
king as he was entering into the city of Poitiers. Then he 
returned again and made all his host do the same, so that 
Saturday it was very late or he was lodged in the field. 
The English currours returned again to the prince and 
shewed him all that they saw and knew, and said how the 
French host was a great number of people. ' Well,' said the 
prince, ' in the name of God let us now study how we shall 
fight with them at our advantage.' That night the English- 
men lodged in a strong place among hedges, vines and 

2 Or rather, ' that the French king had gone in front of them (les avoit 
advancez) and that he could in no way depart without being fought with.' 



THE BATTLE OF POITIERS 37 

bushes, and their host well watched, and so was the French 
host. 

OF THE ORDER OF THE FRENCHMEN BEFORE 
THE BATTLE OF POITIERS 

On the Sunday in the morning the French king, who had 
great desire to fight with the Englishmen, heard his mass 
in his pavilion and was houselled, and his four sons with 
him. After mass there came to him the duke of Orleans, 
the duke of Bourbon, the earl of Ponthieu, the lord Jaques 
of Bourbon, 1 the duke of Athens, constable of France, the 
earl of Tancarville, the earl of Sarrebruck, the earl of 
Dammartin, the earl of Ventadour, and divers other great 
barons of France and of other neighbours holding of France, 
as the lord Clermont, the lord Arnold d'Audrehem, marshal 
of France, the lord of Saint- Venant, the lord John of 
Landas, the lord Eustace Ribemont, the lord Fiennes, the 
lord Geoffrey of Charny, the lord Chatillon, the lord of 
Sully, the lord of Nesle, sir Robert Duras and divers other; 
all these with the king went to counsel. Then finally it was 
ordained that all manner of men should draw into the field, 
and every lord to display his banner and to set forth in the 
name of God and Saint Denis : then trumpets blew up 
through the host and every man mounted on horseback and 
went into the field, where they saw the king's banner wave 
with the wind. There might a been seen great nobless of 
fair harness and rich armoury of banners and pennons ; for 
there was all the flower of France, there was none durst 
abide at home without he would be shamed for ever. Then 
it was ordained by the advice of the constable and marshals 
to be made three battles, and in each ward sixteen thousand 
men of arms all mustered and passed for men of arms. 
The first battle the duke of Orleans to govern, with thirty- 
six banners and twice as many pennons, the second the duke 
of Normandy and his two brethren the lord Louis and the 
lord John, the third the king himself: and while that these 
battles were setting in array, the king called to him the lord 
Eustace Ribemont, the lord John of Landas and the lord 

1 That is, Jaques de Bourbon, earl of la Marche and Ponthieu. 



38 FROISSART'S CHRONICLES 

Richard of Beaujeu, and said to them: 'Sirs, ride on be- 
fore to see the dealing of the Englishmen and advise well 
what number they be and by what means we may fight with 
them, other afoot or a-horseback.' These three knights 
rode forth and the king was on a white courser and said 
a-high to his men : ' Sirs, among you, when ye be at Paris, 
at Chartres, at Rouen or at Orleans, then ye do threat the 
Englishmen and desire to be in arms out against them. Now 
ye be come thereto : I shall now shew you them : now shew 
forth your evil will that ye bear them and revenge your 
displeasures and damages that they have done you, for 
without doubt we shall fight with them.' Such as heard him 
said : ' Sir, in God's name so be it ; that would we see a 
gladly.' 

Therewith the three knights returned again to the king, 
who demanded of them tidings. Then sir Eustace of Ribe- 
mont answered for all and said : ' Sir, we have seen the 
Englishmen : by estimation they be two thousand men of 
arms and four thousand archers and a fifteen hundred of 
other. Howbeit they be in a strong place, and as far as we 
can imagine they are in one battle; howbeit they be wisely 
ordered, and along the way they have fortified strongly 
the hedges and bushes : one part of their archers are along 
by the hedge, so that none can go nor ride that way, but 
must pass by them, and that way must ye go an ye purpose 
to fight with them. In this hedge there is but one entry 
and one issue by likelihood that four horsemen may ride 
afront. At the end of this hedge, whereas no man can go 
nor ride, there be men of arms afoot and archers afore them 
in manner of a herse, so that they will not be lightly dis- 
comfited.' 3 ' Well,' said the king, ' what will ye then coun- 
sel us to do ? ' Sir Eustace said : ' Sir, let us all be afoot, 

a 'Verrons': but a better reading is ' ferons,' 'that will we do gladly.' 
f The translation of this passage is unsatisfactory. It should be: 'How- 
beit they have ordered it wisely, and have taken post along the road, which 
is fortified strongly with hedges and thickets, and they have beset this hedge 
on one side (or according to another text, on one side and on the other) 
with their archers, so that one cannot enter nor ride along their road except 
by them, and that way must he go who purposes to fight with them. In 
this hedge there is but one entry and one issue, where by likelihood four 
men of arms, as on the road, might ride a-front. At the end of this hedge 
among vines and thorn-bushes, where no man can go nor ride, are their 
men of arms all afoot, and they have set in front of them their archers in 
manner of a harrow, whom it would not be easy to discomfit. 



THE BATTLE OF POITIERS 39 

except three hundred men of arms, well horsed, of the best 
in your host and most hardiest, to the intent they somewhat 
to break and to open the archers, and then your battles to 
follow on quickly afoot and so to fight with their men of 
arms hand to hand. This is the best advice that I can give 
you: if any other think any other way better, let him speak.' 
The king said : ' Thus shall it be done ' : then the two 
marshals rode from battle to battle and chose out a three 
hundred knights and squires of the most expert men of 
arms of all the host, every man well armed and horsed. 
Also it was ordained that the battles of t Almains should 
abide still on horseback to comfort the marshals, if need 
were, whereof the earl of Sarrebruck, the earl of Nidau 
and the earl of Nassau were captains. King John of France 
was there armed, and twenty other in his apparel ; and he 
did put the guiding of his eldest son to the lord of Saint- 
Venant, the lord of Landas and the lord Thibault of Vaude- 
nay ; and the lord Arnold of Cervolles, called the archpriest/ 
was armed in the armour of the young earl of Alenqon. 

HOW THE CARDINAL OF PERIG0RD TREATED TO MAKE AGREE- 
MENT BETWEEN THE FRENCH KING AND THE 
PRINCE BEFORE THE BATTLE OF POITIERS 

When the French king's battles was ordered and every 
lord under his banner among their own men, then it was com- 
manded that every man should cut their spears to a five 
foot long and every man to put off their spurs. Thus as they 
were ready to approach, the cardinal of Perigord 1 came in 
great haste to the king. He came the same morning from 
Poitiers ; he kneeled down to the king and held up his hands 
and desired him for God's sake a little to abstain setting 
forward till he had spoken with him : then he said : ' Sir, 
ye have here all the flower of your realm against a handful 
of Englishmen as to regard your company, 3 and, sir, if ye 

4 Arnaud de Cervolles, one of the most celebrated adventurers of the 
14th century, called the arch priest because though a layman he possessed the 
ecclesiastical fief of Velines. 

1 Talleyrand de Perigord. 

2 The meaning is, ' Ye have here all the flower of your realm against a 
handful of people, for so the Englishmen are as compared with your 
company.' 

(C) HC XXXV 



40 FROISSART'S CHRONICLES 

may have them accorded to you without battle, it shall be 
more profitable and honourable to have them by that manner 
rather than to adventure so noble chivalry as ye have here 
present. Sir, I require you in the name of God and humility 
that I may ride to the prince and shew him what danger ye 
have him in.' The king said : ' It pleaseth me well, but re- 
turn again shortly.' The cardinal departed and diligently 
he rode to the prince, who was among his men afoot: then 
the cardinal alighted and came to the prince, who received 
him courteously. Then the cardinal after his salutation 
made he said : ' Certainly, fair son, if you and your council 
advise justly the puissance of the French king, ye will suffer 
me to treat to make a peace between you, an I may.' The 
prince, who was young and lusty, said : ' Sir, the honour of 
me and of my people saved, I would gladly fall to any 
reasonable way.' Then the cardinal said : ' Sir, ye say well, 
and I shall accord you, an I can ; for it should be great pity 
if so many noblemen and other as be here on both parties 
should come together by battle.' Then the cardinal rode 
again to the king and said : ' Sir, ye need not to make any 
great haste to fight with your enemies, for they cannot fly 
from you though they would, they be in such a ground: 
wherefore, sir, I require you forbear for this day till to- 
morrow the sun-rising.' The king was loath to agree thereto, 
for some of his council would not consent to it; but finally 
the cardinal shewed such reasons, that the king accorded 
that respite: and in the same place there was pight up a 
pavilion of red silk fresh and rich, and gave leave for that 
day every man to draw to their lodgings except the con- 
stable's and marshals' battles. 

That Sunday all the day the cardinal travailed in riding 
from the one host to the other gladly to agree them: but 
the French king would not agree without he might have 
four of the principallest of the Englishmen at his pleasure, 
and the prince and all the other to yield themselves simply: 
howbeit there were many great offers made. The prince 
offered to render into the king's hands all that ever he had 
won in that voyage, towns and castles, and to quit all 
prisoners that he or any of his men had taken in that season, 
and also to swear not to be armed against the French king 



THE BATTLE OF POITIERS 41 

in seven year after ; but the king and his council would none 
thereof: the uttermost that he would do was, that the prince 
and a hundred of his knights should yield themselves into 
the king's prison; otherwise he would not: the which the 
prince would in no wise agree unto. 

In the mean season that the cardinal rode thus between 
the hosts in trust to do some good, certain knights of France 
and of England both rode forth the same Sunday, because 
it was truce for that day, to coast the hosts and to behold 
the dealing of their enemies. So it fortuned that the lord 
John Chandos rode the same day coasting the French host, 
and in like manner the lord of Clermont, one of the French 
marshals, had ridden forth and aviewed the state of the 
English host; and as these two knights returned towards 
their hosts, they met together: each of them bare one man- 
ner of device, a blue lady embroidered in a sunbeam above 
on their apparel. Then the lord Clermont said : ' Chandos, 
how long have ye taken on you to bear my device ? ' ' Nay, 
ye bear mine,' said Chandos, ' for it is as well mine as yours.' 
' I deny that,' said Clermont, ' but an it were not for the 
truce this day between us, I should make it good on you 
incontinent that ye have no right to bear my device/ ' Ah, 
sir,' said Chandos, 'ye shall find me to-morrow ready to 
defend you and to prove by feat of arms that it is as well 
mine as yours/ Then Clermont said : * Chandos, these be 
well the words of you Englishmen, for ye can devise nothing 
of new, but all that ye see is good and fair/ So they de- 
parted without any more doing, and each of them returned 
to their host. 

The cardinal of Perigord could in no wise that Sunday 
make any agreement between the parties, and when it was 
near night he returned to Poitiers. That night the French- 
men took their ease; they had provision enough, and the 
Englishmen had great default; they could get no forage, 
nor they could not depart thence without danger of their 
enemies. That Sunday the Englishmen made great dikes 
and hedges about their archers, to be the more stronger; 
and on the Monday in the morning the prince and his com- 
pany were ready apparelled as they were before, and about 
the sun-rising in like manner were the Frenchmen. The 



42 FROISSART'S CHRONICLES 

same morning betimes the cardinal came again to the French 
host and thought by his preaching to pacify the parties; but 
then the Frenchmen said to him : ' Return whither ye will : 
bring hither no more words of treaty nor peace : and ye 
love yourself depart shortly/ When the cardinal saw that 
he travailed in vain, he took leave of the king and then he 
went to the prince and said : ' Sir, do what ye can : there 
is no remedy but to abide the battle, for I can find none 
accord in the French king.' Then the prince said : ' The 
same is our intent and all our people : God help the right ! ' 
So the cardinal returned to Poitiers. In his company there 
were certain knights and squires, men of arms, who were 
more favourable to the French king than to the prince: and 
when they saw that the parties should fight, they stale from 
their masters and went to the French host; and they made 
their captain the chatelain of Amposte, 3 who was as then 
there with the cardinal, who knew nothing thereof till he 
was come to Poitiers. 

The certainty of the order of the Englishmen was shewed 
to the French king, except they had ordained three hundred 
men a-horseback and as many archers a-horseback to coast 
under covert of the mountain and to strike into the battle of 
the duke of Normandy, who was under the mountain afoot. 
This ordinance they had made of new, that the Frenchmen 
knew not of. The prince was with his battle down among 
the vines and had closed in the weakest part with their 
carriages. 

Now will I name some of the principal lords and knights 
that were there with the prince: the earl of Warwick, the 
earl of Suffolk, the earl of Salisbury, the earl of Oxford, the 
lord Raynold Cobham, the lord Spencer, the lord James 
Audley, the lord Peter his brother, the lord Berkeley, the 
lord Bassett, the lord Warin, the lord Delaware, the lord 
Manne, the lord Willoughby, the lord Bartholomew de 
Burghersh, the lord of Felton, the lord Richard of Pem- 
broke, the lord Stephen of Cosington, the lord Bradetane 
and other Englishmen ; and of Gascon there was the lord of 
Pommiers, the lord of Languiran, the captal of Buch, the 
lord John of Caumont, the lord de Lesparre, the lord of 

3 Amposta, a fortress in Catalonia. 



THE BATTLE OF POITIERS 43 

Rauzan, the lord of Condon, the lord of Montferrand, the 
lord of Landiras, the lord soudic of Latrau and other that I 
cannot name ; and of Hainowes the lord Eustace d'Aubreci- 
court, the lord John of Ghistelles, and two other strangers, 
the lord Daniel Pasele and the lord Denis of Morbeke: 
all the prince's company passed not an eight thousand men 
one and other, and the Frenchmen were a sixty thousand 
fighting men, whereof there were more than three thousand 
knights. 

OF THE BATTLE OF POITIERS BETWEEN THE PRINCE OF WALES 
AND THE FRENCH KING 

When the prince saw that he should have battle and that 
the cardinal was gone without any peace or truce making, 
and saw that the French king did set but little store by him, 
he said then to his men : ' Now, sirs, though we be but a 
small company as in regard to the puissance of our enemies, 
let us not be abashed therefor; for the victory lieth not in 
the multitude of people, but whereas God will send it. If it 
fortune that the journey be ours, we shall be the most hon- 
oured people of all the world ; and if we die in our right 
quarrel, I have the king my father and brethren, and also 
ye have good friends and kinsmen ; these shall revenge us. 
Therefore, sirs, for God's sake I require you do your devoirs 
this day; for if God be pleased and Saint George, this day 
ye shall see me a good knight.' These words and such other 
that the prince spake comforted all his people. The lord 
sir John Chandos that day never went from the prince, nor 
also the lord James Audley of a great season ; but when he 
saw that they should needs fight, he said to the prince : ' Sir, 
I have served always truly my lord your father and you 
also, and shall do as long as I live. I say this because I 
made once a vow that the first battle that other the king your 
father or any of his children should be at, how that I would 
be one of the first setters on, 1 or else to die in the pain : 
therefore I require your grace, as in reward for any service 
that ever I did to the king your father or to you, that you 
will give me licence to depart from you and to set myself 

1 ' The first setter-on and the best combatant.' 



44 FROISSART'S CHRONICLES 

thereas I may accomplish my vow.' The prince accorded 
to his desire and said, ' Sir James, God give you this day that 
grace to be the best knight of all other/ and so took him by 
the hand. Then the knight departed from the prince and 
went to the foremost front of all the battles, all only accom- 
panied with four squires, who promised not to fail him. 
This lord James was a right sage and a valiant knight, and 
by him was much of the host ordained and governed the 
day before. Thus sir James was in front of the battle ready 
to fight with the battle of the marshals of France. In like 
wise the lord Eustace d'Aubrecicourt did his pain to be one 
of the foremost to set on. When sir James Audley began 
to set forward to his enemies, it fortuned to sir Eustace 
d'Aubrecicourt as ye shall hear after. Ye have heard before 
how the Almains in the French host were appointed to be 
still a-horseback. Sir Eustace being a-horseback laid his 
spear in the rest and ran into the French battle, and then 
a knight of Almaine, called the lord Louis of Recombes, who 
bare a shield silver, five roses gules, and sir Eustace bare 
ermines, two branches of gules, 2 — when this Almain saw the 
lord Eustace come from his company, he rode against him 
and they met so rudely, that both knights fell to the earth. 
The Almain was hurt in the shoulder, therefore he rose not 
so quickly as did sir Eustace, who when he was up and had 
taken his breath, he came to the other knight as he lay on 
the ground ; but then five other knights of Almaine came on 
him all at once and bare him to the earth, and so perforce 
there he was taken prisoner and brought to the earl of 
Nassau, who as then took no heed of him ; and I cannot say 
whether they sware him prisoner or no, but they tied him 
to a chare and there let him stand. 3 

Then the battle began on all parts, and the battles of the 
marshals of France approached, and they set forth that were 
appointed to break the array of the archers. They entered 
a-horseback into the way where the great hedges were on both 
sides set full of archers. As soon as the men of arms 
entered, the archers began to shoot on both sides and did 
slay and hurt horses and knights, so that the horses when 

a That is, two hamedes gules on a field ermine. 
8 ' They tied him on to a cart with their harness.' 



THE BATTLE OF POITIERS 45 

they felt the sharp arrows they would in no wise go forward, 
but drew aback and flang and took on so fiercely, that many 
of them fell on their masters, so that for press they could 
not rise again; insomuch that the marshals' battle could 
never come at the prince. Certain knights and squires that 
were well horsed passed through the archers and thought to 
approach to the prince, but they could not. The lord James 
Audley with his four squires was in the front of that battle 
and there did marvels in arms, and by great prowess he 
came and fought with sir Arnold d'Audrehem under his 
own banner, and there they fought long together and sir 
Arnold was there sore handled. The battle of the marshals 
began to disorder by reason of the shot of the archers with 
the aid of the men of arms, who came in among them and 
slew of them and did what they list, and there was the lord 
Arnold d'Audrehem taken prisoner by other men than by 
sir James Audley or by his four squires; for that day he 
never took prisoner, but always fought and went on his 
enemies. 

Also on the French party the lord John Clermont fought 
under his own banner as long as he could endure : but there 
he was beaten down and could not be relieved nor ransomed, 
but was slain without mercy : some said it was because of 
the words that he had the day before to sir John Chandos. 
So within a short space the marshals' battles were discom- 
fited, for they fell one upon another and could not go forth;* 
and the Frenchmen that were behind and could not get for- 
ward reculed back and came on the battle of the duke of 
Normandy, the which was great and thick and were afoot, 
but anon they began to open behind; 5 for when they knew 
that the marshals' battle was discomfited, they took their 
horses and departed, he that might best. Also they saw a 
rout of Englishmen coming down a little mountain a-horse- 
back, and many archers with them, who brake in on the side 
of the duke's battle. True to say, the archers did their com- 
pany that day great advantage; for they shot so thick that 
the Frenchmen wist not on what side to take heed, and little 
and little the Englishmen won ground on them. 

* ' Ne pooient aler avant.' 

5 ' Which was great and thick in front (pardevant), but anon it became 
open and thin behind.' 



46 FROISSART'S CHRONICLES 

And when the men of arms of England saw that the 
marshals' battle was discomfited and that the duke's battle 
began to disorder and open, they leapt then on their horses, 
the which they had ready by them: then they assembled to- 
gether and cried, ' Saint George ! Guyenne ! ' and the lord 
Chandos said to the prince : ' Sir, take your horse and ride 
forth; this journey is yours: God is this day in your hands: 
get us to the French king's battle, for their lieth all the sore 
of the matter. I think verily by his valiantness he will not 
fly: I trust we shall have him by the grace of God and 
Saint George, so he be well fought withal: and, sir, I heard 
you say that this day I should see you a good knight.' The 
prince said, ' Let us go forth ; ye shall not see me this day 
return back,' and said, ' Advance, banner, in the name of 
God and of Saint George.' The knight that bare it did his 
commandment: there was then a sore battle and a perilous, 
and many a man overthrown, and he that was once down 
could not be relieved again without great succour and aid. 
As the prince rode and entered in among his enemies, he saw 
on his right hand in a little bush lying dead the lord Robert 
of Duras and his banner by him, 8 and a ten or twelve of his 
men about him. Then the prince said to two of his squires 
and to three archers : ' Sirs, take the body of this knight on 
a targe and bear him to Poitiers, and present him from me 
to the cardinal of Perigord, and say how I salute him by that 
token.' And this was done. The prince was informed that 
the cardinal's men were on the field against him, the which 
was not pertaining to the right order of arms, for men of 
the church that cometh and goeth for treaty of peace ought 
not by reason to bear harness nor to fight for neither of 
the parties ; they ought to be indifferent : and because these 
men had done so, the prince was displeased with the car- 
dinal, and therefore he sent unto him his nephew the lord 
Robert of Duras dead: and the chatelain of Amposte was 
taken, and the prince would have had his head stricken off, 
because he was pertaining to the cardinal, but then the lord 
Chandos said : ' Sir, suffer for a season : intend to a greater 
matter: and peradventure the cardinal will make such ex- 
cuse that ye shall be content.' 

* The original adds, ' qui estoit de France au sentoir (sautoir) de gueulles.' 



THE BATTLE OF POITIERS 47 

Then the prince and his company dressed them on the 
battle of the duke of Athens, constable of France. There 
was many a man slain and cast to the earth. As the French- 
men fought in companies, they cried, ' Mountjoy ! Saint 
Denis ! ' and the Englishmen, ' Saint George ! Guyenne ! ' 
Anon the prince with his company met with the battle of 
Almains, whereof the earl of Sarrebruck, the earl Nassau 
and the earl Nidau were captains, but in a short space they 
were put to flight : the archers shot so wholly together that 
none durst come in their dangers : they slew many a man 
that could not come to no ransom: these three earls was 
there slain, and divers other knights and squires of their 
company, and there was the lord d'Aubrecicourt rescued 
by his own men and set on horseback, and after he did that 
day many feats of arms and took good prisoners. When the 
duke of Normandy's battle saw the prince approach, they 
thought to save themselves, and so the duke and the king's 
children, the earl of Poitiers and the earl of Touraine, 
who were right young, believed their governours and so de- 
parted from the field, and with them more than eight hun- 
dred spears, that strake no stroke that day. Howbeit the 
lord Guichard d'Angle and the lord John of Saintre, who 
were with the earl of Poitiers, would not fly, but entered 
into the thickest press of the battle. The king's three sons 
took the way to Chauvigny, and the lord John of Landas 
and the lord Thibauld of Vaudenay, who were set to await 
on the duke of Normandy, when they had brought the duke 
a long league from the battle, then they took leave of the 
duke and desired the lord of Saint- Venant that he should 
not leave the duke, but to bring him in safeguard, whereby 
he should win more thank of the king than to abide still 
in the field. Then they met also the duke of Orleans and a 
great company with him, who were also departed from the 
field with clear hands: there were many good knights and 
squires, though that their masters departed from the field, 
yet they had rather a died than to have had any reproach. 

Then the king's battle came on the Englishmen: there was 
a sore fight and many a great stroke given and received. 
The king and his youngest son met with the battle of the 
English marshals, the earl of Warwick and the earl of 



48 FROISSART'S CHRONICLES 

Suffolk, and with them of Gascons the captal of Buch, the 
lord of Pommiers, the lord Amery of Tastes, the lord of 
Mussidan, the lord of Languiran and the lord de Latrau. To 
the French party there came time enough the lord John of 
Landas and the lord of Vaudenay; they alighted afoot and 
went into the king's battle, and a little beside fought the 
duke of Athens, constable of France, and a little above him 
the duke of Bourbon and many good knights of Bourbonnais 
and of Picardy with him, and a little on the one side there 
were the Poitevins, the lord de Pons, the lord of Partenay, 
the lord of Dammartin, the lord of Tannay-Bouton, the lord 
of Surgieres, the lord John Saintre, the lord Guichard 
d'Angle, the lord Argenton, the lord of Linieres, the lord of 
Montendre and divers other, also the viscount of Roche- 
chouart and the earl of Aunay; 7 and of Burgoyne the lord 
James of Beaujeu, the lord de Chateau- Vilain and other: 
in another part there was the earl of Ventadour and of 
Montpensier, the lord James of Bourbon, the lord John 
d'Artois and also the lord James his brother, the lord Arnold 
of Cervolles, called the archpriest, armed for the young earl 
of Alenc,on; and of Auvergne there was the lord of Mer- 
cosur, the lord de la Tour, the lord of Chalenqon, the lord of 
Montaigu, the lord of Rochfort, the lord d'Acier, the lord 
d'Acon; and of Limousin there was the lord de Melval, the 
lord of Mareuil, the lord of Pierrebuffiere ; and of Picardy 
there was the lord William of Nesle, the lord Arnold of Ray- 
neval, the lord Geoffrey of Saint-Dizier, the lord of Chauny, 
the lord of Helly, the lord of Montsault, the lord of Hangest 
and divers other: and also in the king's battle there was 
the earl Douglas of Scotland, who fought a season right 
valiantly, but when he saw the discomfiture, he departed 
and saved himself; for in no wise he would be taken of the 
Englishmen, he had rather been there slain. On the English 
part the lord James Audley with the aid of his four squires 
fought always in the chief of the battle : he was sore hurt 
in the body and in the visage : as long as his breath served 
him he fought; at last at the end of the battle his four 
squires took and brought him out of the field and laid him 
under a hedge side for to refresh him ; and they unarmed 

7 ' Le conte d'Aulnoy,' but it should be ' visconte.' 



THE BATTLE OF POITIERS 49 

him and bound up his wounds as well as they could. On 
the French party king John was that day a full right good 
knight: if the fourth part of his men had done their devoirs 
as well as he did, the journey had been his by all likelihood. 
Howbeit they were all slain and taken that were there, ex- 
cept a few that saved themselves, that were with the king. u 
There was slain the duke Peter of Bourbon, the lord 
Guichard of Beaujeu, the lord of Landas, and the duke of 
Athens, constable of France, the bishop of Chalons in Cham- 
pagne, the lord William of Nesle, the lord Eustace of Ribe- 
mont, the lord de la Tour, the lord William of Montaigu, 
sir Grismouton of Chambly, sir Baudrin de la Heuse, and 
many other, as they fought by companies ; and there were 
taken prisoners the lord of Vaudenay, the lord of Pompa- 
dour, and the archpriest, sore hurt, the earl of Vaudimonti 
the earl of Mons, the earl of Joinville, the earl of Vendome, 
sir Louis of Melval, the lord Pierrebuffiere and the lord of 
Serignac : there were at that brunt, slain and taken more than 
two hundred knights." 

OF TWO FRENCHMEN THAT FLED FROM THE BATTLE OF POITIERS 
AND TWO ENGLISHMEN THAT FOLLOWED THEM 

Among the battles, recounterings, chases and pursuits that 
were made that day in the field, it fortuned so to sir Oudart 
of Renty that when he departed from the field because he 
saw the field was lost without recovery, he thought not to 
abide the danger of the Englishmen; wherefore he fled all 
alone and was gone out of the field a league, and an En- 
glish knight pursued him and ever cried to him and said, 
' Return again, sir knight, it is a shame to fly away thus.' 

8 ' Howbeit they that stayed acquitted them as well as they might, so that 
they were all slain or taken. Few escaped of those that set themselves with 
the king': or according to the fuller text: 'Few escaped of those that 
alighted down on the sand by the side of the king their lord.' 

9 The translator has chosen to rearrange the above list of killed, wounded 
or taken, which the French text gives in order as they fought, saying that 
in one part there fell the duke of Bourbon, sir Guichard of Beaujeu and 
sir John of Landas, and there were severely wounded or taken the arch- 
priest, sir Thibaud of Vodenay and sir Baudouin d'Annequin; in another 
there were slain the duke of Athens and the bishop of Chalons, and taken 
the earl of Vaudemont and Joinville and the earl of Vendome: a little above 
this there were slain sir William de Nesle, sir Eustace de Ribemont and 
others, and taken sir Louis de Melval, the lord of Pierrebufiere and the 
lord of Seregnach. 



50 FROISSART'S CHRONICLES 

Then the knight turned, and the English knight thought to 
have stricken him with his spear in the targe, but he failed, 
for sir Oudart swerved aside from the stroke, but he failed 
not the English knight, for he strake him such a stroke on 
the helm with his sword, that he was astonied and fell from 
his horse to the earth and lay still. Then sir Oudart alighted 
and came to him or he could rise, and said, ' Yield you, 
rescue or no rescue, or else I shall slay you.' The English- 
man yielded and went with him, and afterward was ran- 
somed. Also it fortuned that another squire of Picardy 
called John de Hellenes was fled from the battle and met 
with his page, who delivered him a new fresh horse, whereon 
he rode, away alone. The same season there was in the 
field the lord Berkeley of England, a young lusty knight, 
who the same day reared his banner, and he all alone 
pursued the said John of Hellenes. And when he had 
followed the space of a league, the said John turned again 
and laid his sword in the rest instead of a spear, and so 
came running toward the lord Berkeley, who lift up his 
sword to have stricken the squire; but when he saw the 
stroke come, he turned from it, so that the Englishman 
lost his stroke and John strake him as he passed on the 
arm, that the lord Berkeley's sword fell into the field. 
When he saw his sword down, he lighted suddenly off 
his horse and came to the place where his sword lay, 
and as he stooped down to take up his sword, the French 
squire did pike his sword at him, and by hap strake him 
through both the thighs, so that the knight fell to the earth 
and could not help himself. And John alighted off his 
horse and took the knight's sword that lay on the ground, 
and came to him and demanded if he would yield him or 
not. The knight then demanded his name. ' Sir,' said he, 
' I hight John of Hellenes; but what is your name? ' ' Cer- 
tainly,' said the knight, ' my name is Thomas and am lord 
of Berkeley, a fair castle on the river of Severn in the 
marches of Wales.' 'Well, sir,' quoth the squire, 'then ye 
shall be my prisoner, and I shall bring you in safe-guard 
and I shall see that you shall be healed of your hurt.' ' Well,' 
said the knight, ' I am content to be your prisoner, for ye 
have by law of arms won me.' There he sware to be his 



The Battle of Poictiers 

From the painting by H. Dupray 

'He stept forth into the press, and by strength of his 

body and arms he came to the French King 

and said in good French, 

Sir, yield you. 

—p- 52 



THE BATTLE OF POITIERS 51 

prisoner, rescue or no rescue. Then the squire drew forth 
the sword out of the knight's thighs and the wound was 
open : then he wrapped and bound the wound and set him 
on his horse and so brought him fair and easily to Chatel- 
leraut, and there tarried more than fifteen days for his sake 
and did get him remedy for his hurt: and when he was 
somewhat amended, then he gat him a litter and so brought 
him at his ease to his house in Picardy. There he was more 
than a year till he was perfectly whole; and when he de- 
parted he paid for his ransom six thousand nobles, and so 
this squire was made a knight by reason of the profit that he 
had of the lord Berkeley. 

HOW KING JOHN WAS TAKEN PRISONER AT THE 
BATTLE OF POITIERS 

Oftentimes the adventures of amours and of war are 
more fortunate and marvellous than any man can think 
or wish. Truly this battle, the which was near to Poitiers in 
the fields of Beauvoir and Maupertuis, was right great and 
perilous, and many deeds of arms there was done the which 
all came not to knowledge. The fighters on both sides en- 
dured much pain: king John with his own hands did that 
day marvels in arms : he had an axe in his hands wherewith 
he defended himself and fought in the breaking of the press. 
Near to the king there was taken the earl of Tancarville, 
sir Jaques of Bourbon earl of Ponthieu, and the lord John 
of Artois earl of Eu, and a little above that under the ban- 
ner of the captal of Buch was taken sir Charles of Artois 
and divers other knights and squires. The chase endured 
to the gates of Poitiers: there were many slain and beaten 
down, horse and man, for they of Poitiers closed their 
gates and would suffer none to enter; wherefore in the 
street before the gate was horrible murder, men hurt and 
beaten down. The Frenchmen yielded themselves as far off 
as they might know an Englishman : there were divers En- 
glish archers that had four, five or six prisoners : the lord of 
Pons, a great baron of Poitou, was there slain, and many 
other knights and squires; and there was taken the earl of 
Rochechouart, the lord of Dammartin, the lord of Partenay, 



52 FROISSART'S CHRONICLES 

and of Saintonge the lord of Montendre and the lord John 
of Saintre, but he was so sore hurt that he had never health 
after: he was reputed for one of the best knights in France. 
And there was left for dead among other dead men the 
lord Guichard d' Angle, who fought that day by the king 
right valiantly, and so did the lord of Charny, on whom 
was great press, because he bare the sovereign banner 
of the king's: his own banner was also in the field, the which 
was of gules, three scutcheons silver. So many English- 
men and Gascons come to that part, that perforce they 
opened the king's battle, so that the Frenchmen were so 
mingled among their enemies that sometime there was five 
men upon one gentleman. There was taken the lord of 
Pompadour and 1 the lord Bartholomew de Burghersh, and 
there was slain sir Geoffrey of Charny with the king's ban- 
ner in his hands : also the lord Raynold Cobham slew the 
earl of Dammartin. Then there was a great press to take 
the king, and such as knew him cried, ' Sir, yield you, or 
else ye are but dead.' There was a knight of Saint-Omer's, 
retained in wages with the king of England, called sir Denis 
Morbeke, who had served the Englishmen five year before, 
because in his youth he had forfeited the realm of France 
for a murder that he did at Saint-Omer's. It happened so 
well for him, that he was next to the king when they were 
about to take him: he stept forth into the press, and by 
strength of his body and arms he came to the French king 
and said in good French, ' Sir, yield you.' The king beheld 
the knight and said : ' To whom shall I yield me ? Where 
is my cousin the prince of Wales? If I might see him, I 
would speak with him.' Denis answered and said : ' Sir, he 
is not here ; but yield you to me and I shall bring you 
to him. 'Who be you?' quoth the king. ' Sir,' quoth he, 'I 
am Denis of Morbeke, a knight of Artois ; but I serve the 
king of England because I am banished the realm of France 
and I have forfeited all that I had there.' Then the king 
gave him his right gauntlet, saying, ' I yield me to you.' 
There was a great press about the king, for every man 
enforced him to say, 2 ' I have taken him,' so that the king 

1 This ' and ' should be ' by,' but the French text is responsible for the 
mistake. 3 ' S'efforcoit de dire.' 



THE BATTLE OF POITIERS 53 

could not go forward with his young son the lord Philip 
with him because of the press. 

The prince of Wales, who was courageous and cruel as 
a lion, took that day great pleasure to fight and to chase 
his enemies. The lord John Chandos, who was with him, 
of all that day never left him nor never took heed of taking 
of any prisoner: then at the end of the battle he said to the 
prince : ' Sir, it were good that you rested here and set your 
banner a-high in this bush, that your people may draw 
hither, for they be sore spread abroad, nor I can see no more 
banners nor pennons of the French party; wherefore, sir, 
rest and refresh you, for ye be sore chafed.' Then the 
prince's banner was set up a-high on a bush, and trumpets 
and clarions began to sown. Then the prince did off his 
bassenet, and the knights for his body and they of his 
chamber were ready about him, and a red pavilion pight 
up, and then drink was brought forth to the prince and for 
such lords as were about him, the which still increased as 
they came from the chase: there they tarried and their 
prisoners with them. And when the two marshals were come 
to the prince, he demanded of them if they knew any tid- 
ing of the French king. They answered and said : ' Sir, we 
hear none of certainty, but we think verily he is other 
dead or taken, for he is not gone out of the battles.' Then 
the prince said to the earl of Warwick and to sir Raynold 
Cobham : ' Sirs, I require you go forth and see what ye 
can know, that at your return ye may shew me the truth.' 
These two lords took their horses and departed from the 
prince and rode up a little hill to look about them: then 
they perceived a flock of men of arms coming together 
right wearily: 3 there was the French king afoot in great 
peril, for Englishmen and Gascons were his masters ; they 
had taken him from sir Denis Morbeke perforce, and such 
as were most of force said, ' I have taken him.' ' Nay,' quoth 
another, 'I have taken him' : so they strave which should have 
him. Then the French king, to eschew that peril, said : 'Sirs, 
strive not : lead me courteously, and my son, to my cousin the 
prince, and strive not for my taking, for I am so great a 
lord to make you all rich.' The king's words somewhat ap- 

s ' Lentement.' 



54 FROISSART'S CHRONICLES 

peased them; howbeit ever as they went they made riot 
and brawled for the taking of the king. When the two 
foresaid lords saw and heard that noise and strife among 
them, they came to them and said : ' Sirs, what is the matter 
that ye strive for ? ' ' Sirs,' said one of them, ' it is for the 
French king, who is here taken prisoner, and there be more 
than ten knights and squires that challengeth the taking of 
him and of his son.' Then the two lords entered into the 
press and caused every man to draw aback, and commanded 
them in the prince's name on pain of their heads to make no 
more noise nor to approach the king no nearer, without they 
were commanded. Then every man gave room to the lords, 
and they alighted and did their reverence to the king, and 
so brought him and his son in peace and rest to the prince 
of Wales. 

OF THE GIFT THAT THE PRINCE GAVE TO THE LORD 
AUDLEY AFTER THE BATTLE OF POITIERS 

As soon as the earl of Warwick and the lord Cobham were 
departed from the prince, as ye have heard before, then the 
prince demanded of the knights that were about him for the 
lord Audley, if any knew anything of him. Some knights 
that were there answered and said : ' Sir, he is sore hurt 
and lieth in a litter here beside.' ' By my faith,' said the 
prince, 'of his hurts I am right sorry: go and know if he 
may be brought hither, or else I will go and see him thereas 
he is.' Then two knights came to the lord Audley and said: 
' Sir, the prince desireth greatly to see you, other ye must 
go to him or else he will come to you.' ' Ah, sir,' said the 
knight, ' I thank the prince when he thinketh on so poor 
a knight as I am.' Then he called eight of his servants and 
caused them to bear him in his litter to the place whereas 
the prince was. Then the prince took him in his arms and 
kissed him and made him great cheer and said : ' Sir James, 
I ought greatly to honour you, for by your valiance ye have 
this day achieved the grace and renown of us all, and ye 
are reputed for the most valiant of all other.' ' Ah, sir,' 
said the knight, ' ye say as it pleaseth you : I would it were 
so: and if I have this day anything advanced myself to 



THE BATTLE OF POITIERS 55 

serve you and to accomplish the vow that I made, it ought 
not to be reputed to me any prowess.' ' Sir James/ said the 
prince, ' I and all ours take you in this journey for the best 
doer in arms, and to the intent to furnish you the better 
to pursue the wars, I retain you for ever to be my knight 
with five hundred marks of yearly revenues/ the which I 
shall assign you on mine heritage in England.' ' Sir,' said 
the knight, ' God grant me to deserve the great goodness 
that ye shew me': and so he took his leave of the prince, 
for he was right feeble, and so his servants brought him to 
his lodging. And as soon as he was gone, the earl of War- 
wick and the lord Cobham returned to the prince and pre- 
sented to him the French king. The prince made lowly 
reverence to the king and caused wine and spices to be 
brought forth, and himself served the king in sign of great 
love. 

HOW THE ENGLISHMEN WON GREATLY AT THE 
BATTLE OF POITIERS 

Thus this battle was discomfited, as ye have heard, the 
which was in the fields of Maupertuis a two leagues from 
Poitiers the twenty-second day of September the year of 
our Lord mccclvi. It begun in the morning 1 and ended at 
noon, but as then all the Englishmen were not returned from 
the chase ; therefore the prince's banner stood on a bush to 
draw all his men together, but it was well nigh night or all 
came from the chase. And as it was reported, there was 
slain all the flower of France, and there was taken with 
the king and the lord Philip his son a seventeen earls, be- 
side barons, knights and squires, and slain a five or six thou- 
sand of one and other. When every man was come from 
the chase, they had twice as many prisoners as they were 
in number in all. Then it was counselled among them be- 
cause of the great charge and doubt to keep so many, that 
they should put many of them to ransom incontinent in the 
field, and so they did: and the prisoners found the English- 
men and Gascons right courteous ; there were many that 
day put to ransom and let go all only on their promise of 

1 ' Environ heure de prime.' 

(D) HC XXXV 



56 FROISSART'S CHRONICLES 

faith and truth to return again between that and Christmas 
to Bordeaux with their ransoms. Then that night they 
lay in the field beside whereas the battle had been : some 
unarmed them, but not all, and unarmed all their pris- 
oners, and every man made good cheer to his prisoner ; 
for that day whosoever took any prisoner, he was clear 
his and might quit or ransom him at his pleasure. All 
such as were there with the prince were all made rich 
with honour and goods, as well by ransoming of prisoners 
as by winning of gold, silver, plate, jewels, that was there 
found: there was no man that did set anything by rich har- 
ness, whereof there was great plenty, for the Frenchmen 
came thither richly beseen, weening to have had the journey 
for them 

HOW THE LORD JAMES AUDLEY GAVE TO HIS FOUR SQUIRES 

THE FIVE HUNDRED MARKS OF REVENUES THAT THE 

PRINCE HAD GIVEN HIM 

When sir James Audley was brought to his lodging, then 
he sent for sir Peter Audley his brother and for the lord 
Bartholomew of Burghersh, the lord Stephen of Cosington, 
the lord of Willoughby and the lord Ralph Ferrers, all these 
were of his lineage, and then he called before him his four 
squires, that had served him that day well and truly. Then 
he said to the said lords : ' Sirs, it hath pleased my lord the 
prince to give me five hundred marks of revenues by year 
in heritage, for the which gift I have done him but small 
service with my body. Sirs, behold here these four squires, 
who hath always served me truly and specially this day : that 
honour that I have is by their valiantness. Wherefore I 
will reward them : I give and resign into their hands the 
gift that my lord the prince hath given me of five hundred 
marks of yearly revenues, to them and to their heirs for 
ever, in like manner as it was given me. I clearly disherit 
me thereof and inherit them without any repeal 1 or condition.' 
The lords and other that ere there, every man beheld other 
and said among themselves : ' It cometh of a great nobleness 

x ' Rappel,' i. e. power of recalling the gift. The word ' repeal ' is a 
correction of ' rebell.' 



THE BATTLE OF POITIERS 57 

to give this gift.' They answered him with one voice: 'Sir, 
be it as God will ; we shall bear witness in this behalf where- 
soever we be come.' Then they departed from him, and some 
of them went to the prince, who the same night would make 
a supper to the French king and to the prisoners, for they 
had enough to do withal, of that the Frenchmen brought with 
them, 2 for the Englishmen wanted victual before, for some 
in three days had no bread before. 



HOW THE PRINCE MADE A SUPPER TO THE FRENCH 
KING THE SAME DAY OF THE BATTLE 

The same day of the battle at night the prince made a sup- 
per in his lodging to the French king and to the most part 
of the great lords that were prisoners. The prince made 
the king and his son, the lord James of Bourbon, the lord 
John d'Artois, the earl of Tancarville, the earl of Estampes, 
the earl Dammartin, the earl of Joinville and the lord of Part- 
enay to sit all at one board, and other lords, knights and 
squires at other tables ; and always the prince served before 
the king as humbly as he could, and would not sit at the king's 
board for any desire that the king could make, but he said 
he was not sufficient to sit at the table with so great a prince 
as the king was. But then he said to the king: 'Sir, for 
God's sake make none evil nor heavy cheer, though God 
this day did not consent to follow your will ; for, sir, surely 
the king my father shall bear you as much honour and amity 
as he may do, and shall accord with you so reasonably that 
ye shall ever be friends together after. And, sir, methinks ye 
ought to rejoice, though the journey be not as ye would have 
had it, for this day ye have won the high renown of prowess 
and have passed this day in valiantness all other of your 
party. Sir, I say not this to mock you, for all that be on our 
party, that saw every man's deeds, are plainly accorded by 
true sentence to give you the prize and chaplet.' Therewith 
the Frenchmen began to murmur and said among themselves 
how the prince had spoken nobly, and that by all estimation 

2 ' Who was to give the king of France a supper of his own provisions; 
for the French had brought great abundance with them, and provisions had 
failed among the English,' etc. 



58 FROISSART'S CHRONICLES 

he should prove a noble man, if God send him life and to 
persevere in such good fortune. 



HOW THE PRINCE RETURNED TO BORDEAUX 
AFTER THE BATTLE OF POITIERS 

When supper was done, every man went to his lodging 
with their prisoners. The same night they put many to 
ransom and believed them on their faiths and troths, and 
ransomed them but easily, for they said they would set no 
knight's ransom so high, but that he might pay at his ease 
and maintain still his degree. The next day, when they 
had heard mass and taken some repast and that everything 
was trussed and ready, then they took their horses and rode 
towards Poitiers. The same night there was come to Poitiers 
the lord of Roye with a hundred spears: he was not at the 
battle, but he met the duke of Normandy near to Chauvigny, 
and the duke sent him to Poitiers to keep the town till they 
heard other tidings. When the lord of Roye knew that the 
Englishmen were so near coming to the city, he caused every 
man to be armed and every man to go to his defence to the 
walls, towers and gates ; and the Englishmen passed by with- 
out any approaching, for they were so laded with gold, silver 
and prisoners, that in their returning they assaulted no for- 
tress; they thought it a great deed if they might bring the 
French king, with their other prisoners and riches that they 
had won, in safeguard to Bordeaux. They rode but small 
journeys because of their prisoners and great carriages that 
they had: they rode in a day no more but four or five 
leagues and lodged ever betimes, and rode close together in 
good array saving the marshals' battles, who rode ever be- 
fore with five hundred men of arms to open the passages 
as the prince should pass ; but they found no encounters, for 
all the country was so frayed that every man drew to the 
fortresses. 

As the prince rode, it was shewed him how the lord 
Audley had given to his four squires the gift of the five 
hundred marks that he had given unto him: then the prince 
sent for him and he was brought in his litter to the prince, 
who received him courteously and said: 'Sir James, we 



THE BATTLE OF POITIERS 59 

have knowledge that the revenues that we gave you, as 
soon as ye came to your lodging, you gave the same to four 
squires : we would know why ye did so, and whether the 
gift was agreeable to you or not.' ' Sir,' said the knight, 
' it is of truth I have given it to them, and, I shall shew 
you why I did so. These four squires that be here present 
have a long season served me well and truly in many great 
businesses and, sir, in this last battle they served me in such 
wise that an they had never done nothing else I was bound 
to reward them, and before the same day they had never 
nothing of me in reward. Sir, I am but a man alone; but by 
the aid and comfort of them I took on me to accomplish 
my vow long before made. I had been dead in the battle 
an they had not been : wherefore, sir, when I considered the 
love that they bare unto me, I had not been courteous if I 
would not a rewarded them. I thank God I have had and 
shall have enough as long as I live : I will never be abashed 
for lack of good. Sir, if I have done this without your 
pleasure, I require you to pardon me, for, sir, both I and 
my squires shall serve you as well as ever we did.' Then 
the prince said : ' Sir James, for anything that ye have done 
I cannot blame you, but can you good thank therefor; and 
for the valiantness of these squires, whom ye praise so much, 
I accord to them your gift, and I will render again to you 
six hundred marks in like manner as ye had the other.' 

Thus the prince and his company did so much that they 
passed through Poitou and Saintonge without damage and 
came to Blaye, and there passed the river of Gironde and 
arrived in the good city of Bordeaux. It cannot be recorded 
the great feast and cheer that they of the city with the clergy 
made to the prince, and how honourably they were there 
received. The prince brought the French king into the 
abbey of Saint Andrew's, and there they lodged both, the 
king in one part and the prince in the other. The prince 
bought of the lords, knights and squires of Gascoyne the 
most part of the earls of the realm of France, such as were 
prisoners, and paid ready money for them. There was 
divers questions and challenges made between the knights 
and squires of Gascoyne for taking of the French king; 
howbeit Denis Morbeke by right of arms and by true 



60 THE BATTLE OF POITIERS 

tokens that he shewed challenged him for his prisoner. 
Another squire of Gascoyne called Bernard of Truttes said 
how he had right to him: there was much ado and many 
words before the prince and other lords that were there, 
and because these two challenged each other to fight in that 
quarrel, the prince caused the matter to rest till they came 
in England and that no declaration should be made but 
afore the king of England his father; but because the 
French king himself aided to sustain the challenge of Denis 
Morbeke, for he inclined more to him than to any \)ther, 
the prince therefore privily caused to be delivered to the 
said sir Denis two thousand nobles to maintain withal his 
estate. 

Anon after the prince came to Bordeaux, the cardinal 
of Perigord came thither, who was sent from the pope in 
legation, as it was said. He was there more. than fifteen 
days or the prince would speak with him because of the 
chatelain of Amposte and his men, who were against him 
in the battle of Poitiers. The prince believed that the 
cardinal sent them thither, but the cardinal did so much by 
the means of the lord of Caumont, the lord of Mont- 
ferrand and the captal of Buch, who were his cousins, 
they shewed so good reasons to the prince, that he was 
content to hear him speak. And when he was before the 
prince, he excused himself so sagely that the prince and 
his council held him excused, and so he fell again into the 
prince's love and redeemed out his men by reasonable ran- 
soms ; and the chatelain was set to his ransom of ten thou- 
sand franks, the which he paid after. Then the cardinal 
began to treat on the deliverance of the French king, but 
I pass it briefly because nothing was done. Thus the prince, 
the Gascons and Englishmen tarried still at Bordeaux till 
it was Lent in great mirth and revel, and spent foolishly 
the gold and silver that they had won. In England also 
there was great joy when they heard tidings of the battle 
of Poitiers, of the discomfiting of the Frenchmen and taking 
of the king: great solemnities were made in all churches 
and great fires and wakes throughout all England. The 
knights and squires, such as were come home from that 
journey, were much made of and praised more than other. 



WAT TYLER'S REBELLION 

HOW THE COMMONS OF ENGLAND REBELLED AGAINST THE 
NOBLEMEN 

IN the mean season while this treaty was, there fell 
in England great mischief and rebellion of moving 
of the common people, by which deed England was 
at a point to have been lost without recovery. There was 
never realm nor country in so great adventure as it was 
in that time, and all because of the ease and riches that 
the common people were of, which moved them to this 
rebellion, as sometime they did in France, the which did 
much hurt, for by such incidents the realm of France hath 
been greatly grieved. 

It was a marvellous thing and of poor foundation that 
this mischief began in England, and to give ensample to 
all manner of people I will speak thereof as it was done, 
as I was informed, and of the incidents thereof. There 
was an usage in England, and yet is in divers countries, 
that the noblemen hath great franchise over the commons 
and keepeth them in servage, that is to say, their tenants 
ought by custom to labour the lords' lands, to gather and 
bring home their corns, and some to thresh and to fan, and 
by servage to make their hay and to hew their wood and 
bring it home. All these things they ought to do by ser- 
vage, and there be more of these people in England than 
in any other realm. Thus the noblemen and prelates are 
served by them, and especially in the county of Kent, 
Essex, Sussex and Bedford. These unhappy people of 
these said countries began to stir, because they said they 
were kept in great servage, and in the beginning of the 
world, they said, there were no bondmen, wherefore they 
maintained that none ought to be bond, without he did 

61 



62 FROISSART'S CHRONICLES 

treason to his lord, as Lucifer did to God; but they said 
they could have no such battle, 1 for they were neither 
angels nor spirits, but men formed to the similitude of 
their lords, saying why should they then be kept so under 
like beasts; the which they said they would no longer 
suffer, for they would be all one, and if they laboured or 
did anything for their lords, they would have wages therefor 
as well as other. And of this imagination was a foolish 
priest in the country of Kent called John Ball, for the 
which foolish words he had been three times in the bishop 
of Canterbury's prison: for this priest used oftentimes on the 
Sundays after mass, when the people were going out of 
the minster, to go into the cloister and preach, and made 
the people to assemble about him, and would say thus: 
' Ah, ye good people, the matters goeth not well to pass in 
England, nor shall not do till everything be common, and 
that there be no villains nor gentlemen, but that we may 
be all unied together, and that the lords be no greater 
masters than we be. What have we deserved, or why 
should we be kept thus in servage ? We be all come from 
one father and one mother, Adam and Eve : whereby can 
they say or shew that they be greater lords than we be, 
saving by that they cause us to win and labour for that 
they dispend? They are clothed in velvet and camlet furred 
with grise, and we be vestured with poor cloth : they have 
their wines, spices and good bread, and we have the draw- 
ing out of the chaff 2 and drink water: they dwell in fair 
houses, and we have the pain and travail, rain and wind in 
the fields; and by that that cometh of our labours they keep 
and maintain their estates : we be called their bondmen, 
and without we do readily them service, we be beaten ; and 
we have no sovereign to whom we may complain, nor that 
will hear us nor do us right. Let us go to the king, he is 
young, and shew him what servage we be in, and shew him 
how we will have it otherwise, or else we will provide us 
of some remedy; and if we go together, all manner of 
people that be now in any bondage will follow us to the 

1 The true text is, ' Mais ils n'avoient pas cette taille,' ' but they were not 
of that nature.' The translator found the corruption ' bataille ' for ' taille.' 

2 Froissart says ' le seigle, le retrait et la paille,' ' the rye, the bran and the 
straw.' The translator's French text had ' le seigle, le retraict de la paille.' 



WAT TYLER'S REBELLION 63 

intent to be made free ; and when the king seeth us, we 
shall have some remedy, either by fairness or otherwise.' 
Thus John Ball said on Sundays, when the people issued 
out of the churches in the villages ; wherefore many of the 
mean people loved him, and such as intended to no goodness 
said how he said truth; and so they would murmur one 
with another in the fields and in the ways as they went 
together, affirming how John Ball said truth. 

The archbishop of Canterbury, who was informed of the 
saying of this John Ball, caused him to be taken and put 
in prison a two or three months to chastise him : howbeit, 
it had been much better at the beginning that he had been 
condemned to perpetual prison or else to have died, rather 
than to have suffered him to have been again delivered 
out of prison; but the bishop had conscience to let him 
die. And when this John Ball was out of prison, he 
returned again to his error, as he did before. 

Of his words and deeds there were much people in Lon- 
don informed, such as had great envy at them that were 
rich and such as were noble ; and then they began to speak 
among them and said how the realm of England was right 
evil governed, and how that gold and silver was taken from 
them by them that were named noblemen : so thus these 
unhappy men of London began to rebel and assembled them 
together, and sent word to the foresaid countries that they 
should come to London and bring their people with them, 
promising them how they should find London open to re- 
ceive them and the commons of the city to be of the same 
accord, saying how they would do so much to the king that 
there should not be one bondman in all England. 

This promise moved so them of Kent, of Essex, of Sussex, 
of Bedford and of the countries about, that they rose and 
came towards London to the number of sixty thousand. 
And they had a captain called Water Tyler, and with him 
in company was Jack Straw and John Ball : these three were 
chief sovereign captains, but the head of all was Water 
Tyler, and he was indeed a tiler of houses, an ungracious 
patron. When these unhappy men began thus to stir, they 
of London, except such as were of their band, were greatly 
affrayed. Then the mayor of London and the rich men of 



64 FROISSART'S CHRONICLES 

the city took counsel together, and when they saw the 
people thus coming on every side, they caused the gates of 
the city to be closed and would suffer no man to enter into 
the city. But when they had well imagined, they advised 
not so to do, for they thought they should thereby put their 
suburbs in great peril to be brent ; and so they opened again 
the city, and there entered in at the gates in some place 
a hundred, two hundred, by twenty and by thirty, and so 
when they came to London, they entered and lodged: and 
yet of truth the third part 3 of these people could not tell 
what to ask or demand, but followed each other like beasts, 
as the shepherds* did of old time, saying how they would 
go conquer the Holy Land, and at last all came to nothing. 
In like wise these villains and poor people came to London, 
a hundred mile off, sixty mile, fifty mile, forty mile, and 
twenty mile off, and from all countries about London, but 
the most part came from the countries before named, and 
as they came they demanded ever for the king. The gentle- 
men of the countries, knights and squires, began to doubt, 
when they saw the people began to rebel; and though they 
were in doubt, it was good reason ; for a less occasion they 
might have been affrayed. So the gentlemen drew together 
as well as they might. 

The same day that these unhappy people of Kent were 
coming to London, there returned from Canterbury the king's 
mother, princess of Wales, coming from her pilgrimage. She 
was in great jeopardy to have been lost, for these people 
came to her chare and dealt rudely with her, whereof the 
good lady was in great doubt lest they would have done 
some villany to her or to her damosels. Howbeit, God 
kept her, and she came in one day from Canterbury to 
London, for she never durst tarry by the way. The same 
time king Richard her son was at the Tower of London : 
there his mother found him, and with him there was the 
earl of Salisbury, the archbishop of Canterbury, sir Robert 
of Namur, the lord of Gommegnies and divers other, who 
were in doubt of these people that thus gathered together, 

3 ' Bien les trois pars,' i. e. ' three-fourths.' 

4 ' Les pastoureaulx.' The reference no doubt is to the Pastoureaux of 
1320, who were destroyed at Aigues-Mortes when attempting to obtain a 
passage to the Holy Land. 



WAT TYLER'S REBELLION 65 

and wist not what they demanded. This rebellion was well 
known in the king's court, or any of these people began to 
stir out of their houses; but the king nor his council did 
provide no remedy therefor, which was great marvel. And 
to the intent that all lords and good people and such as 
would nothing but good should take ensample to correct 
them that be evil and rebellious, I shall shew you plainly 
all the matter, as it was. 

THE EVIL DEEDS THAT THESE COMMONS OF ENGLAND DID TO THE 

KING'S OFFICERS, AND HOW THEY SENT A KNIGHT TO 

SPEAK WITH THE KING 

The Monday before the feast of Corpus Christi the year 
of our Lord God a thousand three hundred and eighty-one 
these people issued out of their houses to come to London 
to speak with the king to be made free, for they would 
have had no bondman in England. And so first they came 
to Saint Thomas of Canterbury, and there John Ball had 
thought to have found the bishop of Canterbury, but he 
was at London with the king. When Wat Tyler and Jack 
Straw entered into Canterbury, all the common people made 
great feast, for all the town was of their assent; and there 
they took counsel to go to London to the king, and to 
send some of their company over the river of Thames 
into Essex, into Sussex and into the counties of Stafford 
and Bedford, to speak to the people that they should all 
come to the farther side of London and thereby to close 
London round about, so that the king should not stop their 
passages, and that they should all meet together on Corpus 
Christi day. They that were at Canterbury entered into 
Saint Thomas' church and did there much hurt, and robbed 
and brake up the bishop's chamber, and in robbing and 
bearing out their pillage they said : ' Ah, this chancellor 
of England hath had a good market to get together all this 
riches : he shall give us now account of the revenues of 
England and of the great profits that he hath gathered 
sith the king's coronation.' When they had this Monday 
thus broken the abbey of Saint Vincent, they departed in 
the morning and all the people of Canterbury with them, 



66 FROISSART'S CHRONICLES 

and so took the way to Rochester and sent their people to 
the villages about. And in their going they beat down 
and robbed houses of advocates and procurers of the king's 
court and of the archbishop, and had mercy of none. And 
when they were come to Rochester, they had there good 
cheer ; for the people of that town tarried for them, for they 
were of the same sect, and then they went to the castle there 
and took the knight that had the rule thereof, he was called 
sir John Newton, and they said to him : ' Sir, it behoveth 
you to go with us and you shall be our sovereign captain 
and to do that we will have you.' The knight excused him- 
self honestly and shewed them divers considerations and 
excuses, but all availed him nothing, for they said unto 
him: 'Sir John, if ye do not as we will have you, ye are 
but dead.' The knight, seeing these people in that fury 
and ready to slay him, he then doubted death and agreed 
to them, and so they took him with them against his inward 
will; and in like wise did they of other counties in England, 
as Essex, Sussex, Stafford, Bedford and Warwick, even to 
Lincoln; for they brought the knights and gentlemen into 
such obeisance, that they caused them to go with them, 
whether they would or not, as the lord Moylays, a great 
baron, sir Stephen of Hales and sir Thomas of Cosington 
and other. 

Now behold the great fortune. If they might have come 
to their intents, they would have destroyed all the noblemen 
of England, and thereafter all other nations would have 
followed the same and have taken foot and ensample by 
them and by them of Gaunt and Flanders, who rebelled 
against their lord. The same year the Parisians rebelled 
in like wise and found out the mallets of iron, of whom 
there were more than twenty thousand, as ye shall hear 
after in this history; but first we will speak of them of 
England. 

When these people thus lodged at Rochester departed, 
and passed the river and came to Brentford, alway keeping 
still their opinions, beating down before them and all about 
the places and houses of advocates and procurers, and 
striking off the heads of divers persons. And so long they 
went forward till they came within a four mile of London, 



WAT TYLER'S REBELLION 67 

and there lodged on a hill called Blackheath ; and as they 
went, they said ever they were the king's men and the noble 
commons of England: 1 and when they of London knew 
that they were come so near to them, the mayor, as ye have 
heard before, closed the gates and kept straitly all the pas- 
sages. This order caused the mayor, who was called 
Nicholas Walworth, 2 and divers other rich burgesses of the 
city, who were not of their sect; but there were in London 
of their unhappy opinions more than thirty thousand. 

Then these people thus being lodged on Blackheath deter- 
mined to send their knight to speak with the king and to 
shew him how all that they have done or will do is for 
him and his honour, and how the realm of England hath 
not been well governed a great space for the honour of 
the realm nor for the common profit by his uncles and by 
the clergy, and specially by the archbishop of Canterbury 
his chancellor; whereof they would have account. This 
knight durst do none otherwise, but so came by the river 
of Thames to the Tower. The king and they that were 
with him in the Tower, desiring to hear tidings, seeing 
this knight coming made him way, and was brought before 
the king into a chamber ; and with the king was the princess 
his mother and his two brethren, the earl of Kent and the 
lord John Holland, the earl of Salisbury, the earl of War- 
wick, the earl of Oxford, the archbishop of Canterbury, 
the lord of Saint John's, 3 sir Robert of Namur, the lord of 
Vertaing, the lord of Gommegnies, sir Henry of Senzeille, 
the mayor of London and divers other notable burgesses. 
This knight sir John Newton, who was well known among 
them, for he was one of the king's officers, he kneeled down 
before the king and said : ' My right redoubted lord, let it 
not displease your grace the message that I must needs shew 
you, for, dear sir, it is by force and against my will.' ' Sir 
John,' said the king, ' say what ye will : I hold you excused.' 
' Sir, the commons of this your realm hath sent me to you 
to desire you to come and speak with them on Blackheath ; 
for they desire to have none but you : and, sir, ye need not to 

1 ' That they were for the king and the noble commons (or commonwealth) 
of England.' « 

2 Froissart calls him John : his name was really William. 

3 That is, the grand prior of the Hospital. 



68 FROISSART'S CHRONICLES 

have any doubt of your person, for they will do you no 
hurt; for they hold and will hold you for their king. But, 
sir, they say they will shew you divers things, the which 
shall be right necessary for you to take heed of, when they 
speak with you; of the which things, sir, I have no charge 
to shew you: but, sir, it may please you to give me an 
answer such as may appease them and that they may know 
for truth that I have spoken with you ; for they have my chil- 
dren in hostage till I return again to them, and without I 
return again, they will slay my children incontinent.' 

Then the king made him an answer and said : ' Sir, ye 
shall have an answer shortly.' Then the king took counsel 
what was best for him to do, and it was anon determined 
that the next morning the king should go down the river 
by water and without fail to speak with them. And when 
sir John Newton heard that answer, he desired nothing else 
and so took his leave of the king and of the lords and re- 
turned again into his vessel, and passed the Thames and 
went to Blackheath, where he had left more than threescore 
thousand men. And there he answered them that the next 
morning they should send some of their council to the 
Thames, and there the king would come and speak with 
them. This answer greatly pleased them, and so passed 
that night as well as they might, and the fourth part of 
them 4 fasted for lack of victual for they had none, where- 
with they were sore displeased, which was good reason. 

All this season the earl of Buckingham was in Wales, 
for there he had fair heritages by reason of his wife, who 
was daughter to the earl of Northumberland and Hereford; 
but the voice was all through London how he was among 
these people. And some said certainly how they had seen 
him there among them; and all was because there was one 
Thomas in their company, a man of the county of Cam- 
bridge, that was very like the earl. Also the lords that lay 
at Plymouth to go into Portugal were well informed of this 
rebellion and of the people that thus began to rise; where- 
fore they doubted lest their viage should have been broken, 
or else they feared lest the commons about Hampton, Win- 
chester and Arundel would have come on them: wherefore 

* ' Les quatre pars d'eux,' ' four-fifths of them.' 



WAT TYLER'S REBELLION 69 

they weighed up their anchors and issued out of the haven 
with great pain, for the wind was sore against them, and so 
took the sea and there cast anchor abiding for the wind. 
And the duke of Lancaster, who was in the marches of 
Scotland between Moorlane and Roxburgh entreating with 
the Scots, where it was shewed him of the rebellion, whereof 
he was in doubt, for he knew well he was but little beloved 
with the commons of England ; howbeit, for all those tidings, 
yet he did sagely demean himself as touching the treaty 
with the Scots. The earl Douglas, the earl of Moray, the 
earl of Sutherland and the earl Thomas Versy, and the Scots 
that were there for the treaty knew right well the rebellion 
in England, how the common people in every part began to 
rebel against the noblemen; wherefore the Scots thought 
that England was in great danger to be lost, and therefore 
in their treaties they were the' more stiffer against the duke 
of Lancaster and his council. 

Now let us speak of the commons of England and how 
they persevered. 

HOW THE COMMONS OF ENGLAND ENTERED INTO LONDON, AND 

OF THE GREAT EVIL THAT THEY DID, AND OF THE DEATH 

OF THE BISHOP OF CANTERBURY AND DIVERS OTHER 

In the morning on Corpus Christi day king Richard heard 
mass in the Tower of London, and all his lords, and then he 
took his barge with the earl of Salisbury, the earl of War- 
wick, the earl of Oxford and certain knights, and so rowed 
down along the Thames to Rotherhithe, whereas was de- 
scended down the hill a ten thousand men to see the king 
and to speak with him. And when they saw the king's barge 
coming, they began to shout, and made such a cry, as though 
all the devils of hell had been among them. And they had 
brought with them sir John Newton to the intent that, if 
the king had not come, they would have stricken him all to 
pieces, and so they had promised him. And when the king 
and his lords saw the demeanour of the people, the best 
assured of them were in dread ; and so the king was coun- 
selled by his barons not to take any landing there, but so 
rowed up and down the river. And the king demanded of 



70 FROISSART'S CHRONICLES 

them what they would, and said how he was come thither 
to speak with them, and they said all with one voice : ' We 
would that ye should come aland, and then we shall shew 
you what we lack.' Then the earl of Salisbury answered for 
the king and said: ' Sirs, ye be not in such order nor array 
that the king ought to speak with you.' And so with those 
words no more said: and then the king was counselled to 
return again to the Tower of London, and so he did. 

And when these people saw that, they were inflamed with 
ire and returned to the hill where the great band was, and 
there shewed them what answer they had and how the king 
was returned to the Tower of London. Then they cried all 
with one voice, ' Let us go to London/ and so they took 
their way thither; and in their going they beat down abbeys 
and houses of advocates and of men of the court, and so 
came into the suburbs of London, which were great and 
fair, and there beat down divers fair houses, and specially 
they brake up the king's prisons, as the Marshalsea and 
other, and delivered out all the prisoners that were within : 
and there they did much hurt, and at the bridge foot they 
threat them of London because the gates of the bridge 
were closed, saying how they would bren all the suburbs and 
so conquer London by force, and to slay and bren all the 
commons of the city. There were many within the city 
of their accord, and so they drew together and said: 'Why 
do we not let these good people enter into the city? they 
are your fellows, and that that they do is for us.' So there- 
with the gates were opened, and then these people entered 
into the city and went into houses and sat down to eat and 
drink. They desired nothing but it was incontinent brought 
to them, for every man was ready to make them good cheer 
and to give them meat and drink to appease them. 

Then the captains, as John Ball, Jack Straw and Wat 
Tyler, went throughout London and a twenty thousand with 
them, and so came to the Savoy in the way to Westminster, 
which was a goodly house and it pertained to the duke of 
Lancaster. And when they entered, they slew the keepers 
thereof and robbed and pilled the house, and when they had 
so done, then they set fire on it and clean destroyed and brent 
it. And when they had done that outrage, they left not 



WAT TYLER'S REBELLION 71 

therewith, but went straight to the fair hospital of the 
Rhodes called Saint John's, 1 and there they brent house, 
hospital, minster and all. Then they went from street to 
street and slew all the Flemings that they could find in 
church or in any other place, there was none respited from 
death. And they brake up divers houses of the Lombards 
and robbed them and took their goods at their pleasure, for 
there was none that durst say them nay. And they slew 
in the city a rich merchant called Richard Lyon, to whom 
before that time Wat Tyler had done service in France; 
and on a time this Richard Lyon had beaten him, while he 
was his varlet, the which Wat Tyler then remembered and 
so came to his house and strake off his head and caused it 
to be borne on a spear-point before him all about the city. 
Thus these ungracious people demeaned themselves like 
people enraged and wood, and so that day they did much 
sorrow in London. 

And so against night they went to lodge at Saint Kath- 
erine's before the Tower of London, saying how they would 
never depart thence till they had the king at their pleasure 
and till he had accorded to them all [they would ask, and] 
that they would ask accounts of the chancellor of England, 
to know where all the good was become that he had levied 
through the realm, and without he made a good account to 
them thereof, it should not be for his profit. And so when 
they had done all these evils to the strangers all the day, 
at night they lodged before the Tower. 

Ye may well know and believe that it was great pity for 
the danger that the king and such as were with him were in. 
For some time these unhappy people shouted and cried so 
loud, as though all the devils of hell had been among them. 
In this evening the king was counselled by his brethren and 
lords and by sir Nicholas Walworth, mayor of London, 
and divers other notable and rich burgesses, that in the 
night time they should issue out of the Tower and enter into 
the city, and so to slay all these unhappy people, while 
they were at their rest and asleep; for it was thought that 

1 This is called afterwards ' POspital de Saint Jehan du Temple,' and 
therefore would probably be the Temple, to which the Hospitallers had suc- 
ceeded. They had, however, another house at Clerkenwell, which also had 
been once the property of the Templars. 

(E) HC XXXV 



72 FROISSART'S CHRONICLES 

many of them were drunken, whereby they should be slain 
like flies; also of twenty of them there was scant one in 
harness. And surely the good men of London might well 
have done this at their ease, for they had in their houses 
secretly their friends and servants ready in harness, and 
also sir Robert Knolles was in his lodging keeping his 
treasure with a sixscore ready at his commandment; in 
like wise was sir Perducas d'Albret, who was as then in 
London, insomuch that there might well [have] assembled 
together an eight thousand men ready in harness. Howbeit, 
there was nothing done, for the residue of the commons of 
the city were sore doubted, lest they should rise also, and 
the commons before were a threescore thousand or more. 
Then the earl of Salisbury and the wise men about the king 
said: 'Sir, if ye can appease them with fairness, it were 
best and most profitable, and to grant them everything that 
they desire, for if we should begin a thing the which we 
could not achieve, we should never recover it again, but we 
and our heirs ever to be disinherited.' So this counsel was 
taken and the mayor countermanded, and so commanded 
that he should not stir; and he did as he was commanded, 
as reason was. And in the city with the mayor there were 
twelve aldermen, whereof nine of them held with the king 
and the other three took part with these ungracious people, 
as it was after well known, the which they full dearly 
bought. 

And on the Friday in the morning the people, being at 
Saint Katherine's near to the Tower, began to apparel them- 
selves and to cry and shout, and said, without the king 
would come out and speak with them, they would assail 
the Tower and take it by force, and slay all them that were 
within. Then the king doubted these words and so was 
counselled that he should issue out to speak with them : and 
then the king sent to them that they should all draw to a 
fair plain place called Mile-end, whereas the people of the 
city did sport them in the summer season, and there the 
king to grant them that they desired; and there it was cried 
in the king's name, that whosoever would speak with the 
king let him go to the said place, and there he should not 
fail to find the king. Then the people began to depart, 



WAT TYLER'S REBELLION 73 

specially the commons of the villages, and went to the same 
place: but all went not thither, for they were not all of 
one condition; for there were some that desired nothing 
but riches and the utter destruction of the noblemen and to 
have London robbed and pilled ; that was the principal matter 
of their beginning, the which they well shewed; for as 
soon as the Tower gate opened and that the king was is- 
sued out with his two brethren and the earl of Salisbury, 
the earl of Warwick, the earl of Oxford, sir Robert of 
Namur, the lord of Vertaing, the lord Gommegnies and 
divers other, then Wat Tyler, Jack Straw and John Ball 
and more than four hundred entered into the Tower and 
brake up chamber after chamber, and at last found the 
archbishop of Canterbury, called Simon, a valiant man and 
a wise, and chief chancellor of England, and a little before 
he had said mass before the king. These gluttons took 
him and strake off his head, and also they beheaded the lord 
of Saint John's and a friar minor, master in medicine, 
pertaining to the duke of Lancaster, they slew him in 
despite of his master, and a sergeant at arms called John 
Leg; and these four heads were set on four long spears 
and they made them to be borne before them through the 
streets of London and at last set. them a-high on London 
bridge, as though they had been traitors to the king and to 
the realm. Also these gluttons entered into the princess' 
chamber and brake her bed, whereby she was so sore af- 
f rayed that she swooned; and there she was taken up and 
borne to the water side and put into a barge and covered, 
and so conveyed to a place called the Queen's Wardrobe ; 2 and 
there she was all that day and night like a woman half 
dead, till she was comforted with the king her son, as ye 
shall hear after. 

HOW THE NOBLES OF ENGLAND WERE IN GREAT PERIL TO HAVE 
BEEN DESTROYED, AND HOW THESE REBELS WERE PUN- 
ISHED AND SENT HOME TO THEIR OWN HOUSES 

When the king came to the said place of Mile-end without 
London, he put out of his company his two brethren, the earl 

2 The Queen's Wardrobe was in the ' Royal ' (called by Froissart or his 
copyist 'la Reole'), a palace near Blackfriars. 



74 FROISSARTS CHRONICLES 

of Kent and sir John Holland, and the lord of Gommegnies, 
for they durst not appear before the people: and when the 
king and his other lords were there, he found there a three- 
score thousand men of divers villages and of sundry coun- 
tries in England; so the king entered in among them and 
said to them sweetly : 'Ah, ye good people, I am your king : 
what lack ye ? what will ye say ? ' Then such as understood 
him said : ' We will that ye make us free for ever, ourselves, 
our heirs and our lands, and that we be called no more bond 
nor so reputed.' ' Sirs,' said the king, ' I am well agreed 
thereto. Withdraw you home into your own houses and into 
such villages as ye came from, and leave behind you of 
every village two or three, and I shall cause writings to be 
made and seal them with my seal, the which they shall have 
with them, containing everything that ye demand; and to 
the intent that ye shall be the better assured, I shall cause 
my banners to be delivered into every bailiwick, shire and 
countries.' 

These words appeased well the common people, such as 
were simple and good plain men, that were come thither 
and wist not why. They said, ' It was well said, we desire 
no better.' Thus these people began to be appeased and be- 
gan to withdraw them into the city of London. And the 
king also said a word, the which greatly contented them. 
He said: ' Sirs, among you good men of Kent ye shall have 
one of my banners with you, and ye of Essex another, and 
ye of Sussex, of Bedford, of Cambridge, 'of Yarmouth, of 
Stafford and of Lynn, each of you one ; and also I pardon 
everything that ye have done hitherto, so that ye follow my 
banners and return home to your houses.' They all an- 
swered how they would so do : thus these people departed 
and went into London. Then the king ordained more than 
thirty clerks the same Friday, to write with all diligence 
letter patents and sealed with the king's seal, and delivered 
them to these people ; and when they had received the writ- 
ing, they departed and returned into their own countries : 
but the great venom remained still behind, for Wat Tyler, 
Jack Straw and John Ball said, for all that these people 
were thus appeased, yet they would not depart so, and they 
had of their accord more than thirty thousand. So they 



WAT TYLER'S REBELLION 75 

abode still and made no press to have the king's writing 
nor seal, for all their intents was to put the city to trouble 
in such wise as to slay all the rich and honest persons and , 
to rob and pill their houses. They of London were in great 
fear of this, wherefore they kept their houses privily with 
their friends and such servants as they had, every man ac- 
cording to his puissance. And when these said people were 
this Friday thus somewhat appeased, and that they should 
depart as soon as they had their writings, every man home 
into his own country, then king Richard came into the 
Royal, where the queen his mother was, right sore aff rayed : 
so he comforted her as well as he could and tarried there 
with her all that night. 

Yet I shall shew you of an adventure that fell by these 
ungracious people before the city of Norwich, by a captain 
among them called Guilliam Lister of Stafford. The same 
day of Corpus Christi that these people entered into London 
and brent the duke of Lancaster's house, called the Savoy, 
and the hospital of Saint John's and brake up the king's 
prisons and did all this hurt, as ye have heard before, the 
same time there assembled together they of Stafford, of 
Lynn, of Cambridge, of Bedford and of Yarmouth; and as 
they were coming towards London, they had a captain 
among them called Lister. And as they came, they rested 
them before Norwich, and in their coming they caused 
every man to rise with them, so that they left no villains 
behind them. The cause why they rested before Norwich 
I shall shew you. There was a knight, captain of the town, 
called sir Robert Sale. He was no gentleman born, but he 
had the grace to be reputed sage and valiant in arms, and 
for his valiantness king Edward made him knight. He was 
of his body one of the biggest knights in all England. Lister 
and his company thought to have had this knight with them 
and to make him their chief captain, to the intent to be the 
more feared and beloved : so they sent to him that he should 
come and speak with them in the field, or else they would 
bren the town. The knight considered that it was better 
for him to go and speak with them rather than they should 
do that outrage to the town : then he mounted on his horse 
and issued out of the town all alone, and so came to speak 



76 FROISSART'S CHRONICLES 

with them. And when they saw him, they made him great 
cheer and honoured him much, desiring him to alight off 
his horse and to speak with them, and so he did: wherein 
he did great folly; for when he was alighted, they came 
round about him and began to speak fair to him and said: 
' Sir Robert, ye are a knight and a man greatly beloved in 
this country and renowned a valiant man ; and though ye 
be thus, yet we know you well, ye be no gentleman born, 
but son to a villain such as we be. Therefore come you with 
us and be our master, and we shall make you so great a lord, 
that one quarter of England shall be under your obeisance.' 
When the knight heard them speak thus, it was greatly 
contrarious to his mind, for he thought never to make any 
such bargain, and answered them with a felonous regard: 
' Fly away, ye ungracious people, false and evil traitors 
that ye be : would you that I should forsake my natural lord 
for such a company of knaves as ye be, to my dishonour 
for ever ? I had rather ye were all hanged, as ye shall be ; 
for that shall be your end.' And with those words he had 
thought to have leapt again upon his horse, but he failed 
of the stirrup and the horse started away. Then they cried 
all at him and said : ' Slay him without mercy.' When he 
heard those words, he let his horse go and drew out a good 
sword and began to scrimmish with them, and made a great 
place about him, that it was pleasure to behold him. There 
was none that durst approach near him : there were some 
that approached near him, but at every stroke that he gave 
he cut off other leg, head or arm : there was none so hardy 
but that they feared him: he did there such deeds of arms 
that it was marvel to regard. But there were more than 
forty thousand of these unhappy people: they shot and cast 
at him, and he was unarmed: to say truth, if he had been 
of iron or steel, yet he must needs have been slain ; but yet, 
or he died, he slew twelve out of hand, beside them that he 
hurt. Finally he was stricken to the earth, and they cut 
off his arms and legs and then strake his body all to pieces. 
This was the end of sir Robert Sale, which was great 
damage ; for which deed afterward all the knights and 
squires of England were angry and sore displeased when 
they heard thereof. 



WAT TYLER'S REBELLION 77 

Now let us return to the king. The Saturday the king 
departed from the Wardrobe in the Royal and went to 
Westminster and heard mass in the church there, and all 
his lords with him. And beside the church there was a little 
chapel with an image of our Lady, which did great miracles 
and in whom the kings of England had ever great trust and 
confidence. The king made his orisons before this image 
and did there his offering; and then he leapt on his horse, 
and all his lords, and so the king rode toward London; and 
when he had ridden a little way, on the left hand there was 
a way to pass without London. 1 

The same proper morning Wat Tyler, Jack Straw and 
John Ball had assembled their company to common together 
in a place called Smithfield, whereas every Friday there is 
a market of horses; and there were together all of affinity 
more than twenty thousand, and yet there were many still 
in the town, drinking and making merry in the taverns and 
paid nothing, for they were happy that made them best 
cheer. And these people in Smithfield had with them the 
king's banners, the which were delivered them the day be- 
fore, and all these gluttons were in mind to overrun and to 
rob London the same day; for their captains said how they 
had done nothing as yet. ' These liberties that the king 
hath given us is to us but a small profit: therefore let us 
be all of one accord and let us overrun this rich and puissant 
city, or they of Essex, of Sussex, of Cambridge, of Bed- 
ford, of Arundel, of Warwick, of Reading, of Oxford, of 
Guildford, of Lynn, of Stafford, of Yarmouth, of Lincoln, 
of York and of Durham do come hither. For all these will 
come hither; Baker and Lister will bring them hither; and 
if we be first lords of London and have the possession of 
the riches that is therein, we shall not repent us ; for if we 
leave it, they that come after will have it from us.' 

To this counsel they all agreed; and therewith the king 
came the same way unware of them, for he had thought to 
have passed that way without London, and with him a forty 
horse. And when he came before the abbey of Saint 
Bartholomew and beheld all these people, then the king 
rested and said how he would go no farther till he knew 

1 Or rather, ' he found a place on the left hand to pass without London.' 



78 FROISSART'S CHRONICLES 

what these people ailed, saying, if they were in any trouble, 
how he would rappease them again. The lords that were 
with him tarried also, as reason was when they saw the 
king tarry. And when Wat Tyler saw the king tarry, he 
said to his people : ' Sirs, yonder is the king : I will go and 
speak with him. Stir not from hence, without I make you 
a sign ; and when I make you that sign, come on and slay 
all them except the king; but do the king no hurt, he is 
young, we shall do with him as we list and shall lead him 
with us all about England, and so shall we be lords of all 
the realm without doubt.' And there was a doublet-maker of 
London called John Tycle, and he had brought to these 
gluttons a sixty doublets, the which they ware: then he 
demanded of these captains who should pay him for his 
doublets; he demanded thirty mark. Wat Tyler answered 
him and said: 'Friend, appease yourself, thou shalt be 
well paid or this day be ended. Keep thee near me; I shall 
be thy creditor.' And therewith he spurred his horse and 
departed from his company and came to the king, so near 
him that his horse head touched the croup of the king's 
horse, and the first word that he said was this : ' Sir king, 
seest thou all yonder people?' 'Yea truly,' said the king, 
'wherefore sayest thou?' 'Because,' said he, 'they be all 
at my commandment and have sworn to me faith and truth, 
to do all that I will have them.' ' In a good time,' said the 
king, ' I will well it be so.' Then Wat Tyler said, as he 
that nothing demanded but riot : ' What believest thou, 
king, that these people and as many more as be in London 
at my commandment, that they will depart from thee thus 
without having thy letters ? ' ' No,' said the king, ' ye shall 
have them : they be ordained for you and shall be delivered 
every one each after other. Wherefore, good fellows, with- 
draw fair and easily to your people and cause them to depart 
out of London ; for it is our intent that each of you by 
villages and townships shall have letters patents, as I have 
promised you.' 

With those words Wat Tyler cast his eyen on a squire 
that was there with the king bearing the king's sword, and 
Wat Tyler hated greatly the same squire, for the same squire 
had displeased him before for words between them. ' What,' 



WAT TYLER'S REBELLION 79 

said Tyler, ' art thou there ? Give me thy dagger.' ' Nay,' 
said the squire, ' that will I not do : wherefore should I give 
it thee ? ' The king beheld the squire and said : 'Give it him ; 
let him have it.' And so the squire took it him sore against 
his will. And when this Wat Tyler had it, he began to play 
therewith and turned it in his hand, and said again to the 
squire : ' Give me also that sword.' ' Nay,' said the squire, 
' it is the king's sword : thou art not worthy to have it, for 
thou art but a knave; and if there were no more here but 
thou and I, thou durst not speak those words for as much 
gold in quantity as all yonder abbey.' 2 ' By my faith,' said 
Wat Tyler, ' I shall never eat meat till I have thy head ' : 
and with those words the mayor of London came to the 
king with a twelve horses well armed under their coats, 
and so he brake the press and saw and heard how Wat Tyler 
demeaned himself, and said to him : ' Ha, thou knave, how 
art thou so hardy in the king's presence to speak such 
words? It is too much for thee so to do.' Then the king 
began to chafe and said to the mayor : ' Set hands on him.' 
And while the king said so, Tyler said to the mayor : ' A 
God's name what have I said to displease thee ? ' ' Yes 
truly,' quoth the mayor, ' thou false stinking knave, shalt 
thou speak thus in the presence of the king my natural lord? 
I commit never to live, without thou shalt dearly abye it.' 3 
And with those words the mayor drew out his sword and 
strake Tyler so great a stroke on the head, that he fell 
down at the feet of his horse, and as soon as he was fallen, 
they environed him all about, whereby he was not seen of 
his company. Then a squire of the king's alighted, called 
John Standish, and he drew out his sword and put it into 
Wat Tyler's belly, and so he died. 

Then the ungracious people there assembled, perceiving 
their captain slain, began to murmur among themselves and 
said : ' Ah, our captain is slain, let us go and slay them all ' : 
and therewith they arranged themselves on the place in 
manner of battle, and their bows before them. Thus the 
king began a great outrage ; 4 howbeit, all turned to the best : 

2 The full text has, ' for as much gold as that minster of Saint Paul is great.' 

3 ' Jamais je veux vivre, si tu ne le compares.' 

* ' Outrage ' here means ' act of boldness,' as elsewhere, e. g. ' si fist une 
grant apertise d'armes et un grant outrage.' 



80 FROISSART'S CHRONICLES 

for as soon as Tyler was on the earth, the king departed 
from all his company and all alone he rode to these people, 
and said to his own men : ' Sirs, none of you follow me ; let 
me alone.' And so when he came before these ungracious 
people, who put themselves in ordinance to revenge their 
captain, then the king said to them: 'Sirs, what aileth you? 
Ye shall have no captain but me: I am your king: be all in 
rest and peace.' And so the most part of the people that 
heard the king speak and saw him among them, were shame- 
fast and began to wax peaceable and to depart; but some, 
such as were malicious and evil, would not depart, but made 
semblant as though they would do somewhat. 

Then the king returned to his own company and demanded 
of them what was best to be done. Then he was counselled 
to draw into the field, for to fly away was no boot. Then 
said the mayor : ' It is good that we do so, for I think surely 
we shall have shortly some comfort of them of London and 
of such good men as be of our part, who are purveyed and 
have their friends and men ready armed in their houses.' 
And in the mean time voice and bruit ran through London 
how these unhappy people were likely to slay the king and 
the mayor in Smithfield ; through the which noise all manner 
of good men of the king's party issued out of their houses 
and lodgings well armed, and so came all to Smithfield 
and to the field where the king was, and they were anon to 
the number of seven or eight thousand men well armed. 
And first thither came sir Robert Knolles and sir Perducas 
d'Albret, well accompanied, and divers of the aldermen of 
London, and with them a six hundred men in harness, and 
a puissant man of the city, who was the king's draper, 5 
called Nicholas Bramber, and he brought with him a great 
company; and ever as they came, they ranged them afoot 
in order of battle: and on the other part these unhappy 
people were ready ranged, making semblance to give battle, 
and they had with them divers of the king's banners. There 
the king made three knights, the one the mayor of London 
sir Nicholas Walworth, sir John Standish and sir Nicholas 
Bramber. Then the lords said among themselves : ' What 

B ' Qui estoit des draps du roy.' He owned large estates in Essex and also 
shops in London. He became one of the councillors of Richard II. 



WAT TYLER'S REBELLION 81 

shall we do? We see here our enemies, who would gladly 
slay us, if they might have the better hand of us/ Sir 
Robert Knolles counselled to go and fight with them and 
slay them all ; yet the king would not consent thereto, but 
said : ' Nay, I will not so : I will send to them commanding 
them to send me again my banners, and thereby we shall 
see what they will do. Howbeit, other by fairness or other- 
wise, I will have them.' ' That is well said, sir,' quoth the 
earl of Salisbury. Then these new knights were sent to 
them, and these knights made token to them not to shoot 
at them, and when they came so near them that their speech 
might be heard, they said : ' Sirs, the king commandeth you 
to send to him again his banners, and we think he will have 
mercy of you.' And incontinent they delivered again the 
banners and sent them to the king. Also they were com- 
manded on pain of their heads, that all such as had letters 
of the king to bring them forth and to send them again to 
the king; and so many of them delivered their letters, but 
not all. Then the king made them to be all to-torn in their 
presence; and as soon as the king's banners were delivered 
again, these unhappy people kept none array, but the most 
part of them did cast down their bows, and so brake their 
array and returned into London. Sir Robert Knolles was 
sore displeased in that he might not go to slay them all : 
but the king would not consent thereto, but said he would 
be revenged of them well enough; and so he was after. 

Thus these foolish people departed, some one way and 
some another; and the king and his lords and all his com- 
pany right ordinately entered into London with great joy. 
And the first journey that the king made he went to the lady 
princess his mother, who was in a castle in the Royal called 
the Queen's Wardrobe, and there she had tarried two days 
and two nights right sore abashed, as she had good reason ; 
and when she saw the king her son, she was greatly re- 
joiced and said: 'Ah, fair son, what pain and great sorrow 
that I have suffered for you this day ! ' Then the king an- 
swered and said : ' Certainly, madam, I know it well ; but 
now rejoice yourself and thank God, for now it is time. 
I have this day recovered mine heritage and the realm of 
England, the which I had near lost' Thus the king tarried 



82 FROISSART'S CHRONICLES 

that day with his mother, and every lord went peaceably to 
their own lodgings. Then there was a cry made in every 
street in the king's name, that all manner of men, not being 
of the city of London and have not dwelt there the space 
of one year, to depart; and if any such be found there the 
Sunday by the sun-rising, that they should be taken as 
traitors to the king and to lose their heads. This cry thus 
made, there was none that durst brake it, and so all manner 
of people departed and sparkled abroad every man to their 
own places. John Ball and Jack Straw were found in an old 
house hidden, thinking to have stolen away, but they could 
not, for they were accused by their own men. Of the 
taking of them the king and his lords were glad, and then 
strake off their heads and Wat Tyler's also, and they were 
set on London bridge, and the valiant men's heads taken 
down that they had set on the Thursday before. These 
tidings anon spread abroad, so that the people of the strange 
countries, which were coming towards London, returned 
back again to their own houses and durst come no farther. 



THE BATTLE OF OTTERBURN 



HOW THE EARL DOUGLAS WON THE PENNON OF SIR HENRY PERCY 

AT THE BARRIERS BEFORE NEWCASTLE-UPON-TYNE, AND 

HOW THE SCOTS BRENT THE CASTLE OF PONTLAND, 

AND HOW SIR HENRY PERCY AND SIR RALPH 

HIS BROTHER TOOK ADVICE TO FOLLOW 

THE SCOTS TO CONQUER AGAIN THE 

PENNON THAT WAS LOST AT 

THE SCRIMMISH 

WHEN the English lords saw that their squire 
returned not again at the time appointed, and 
could know nothing what the Scots did, nor what 
they were purposed to do, then they thought well that their 
squire was taken. The lords sent each to other, to be ready 
whensoever they should hear that the Scots were abroad: 
as for their messenger, they thought him but lost. 

Now let us speak of the earl Douglas and other, for they 
had more to do than they that went by Carlisle. When the 
earls of Douglas, of Moray, of March, and Dunbar 1 departed 
from the great host, they took their way thinking to pass 
the water and to enter into the bishopric of Durham, and to 
ride to the town and then to return, brenning and exiling 
the country and so to come to Newcastle and to lodge there 
in the town in the despite of all the Englishmen. And as 
they determined, so they did assay to put it in use, for they 
rode a great pace under covert without doing of any pil- 
lage by the way or assaulting of any castle, tower or house, 
but so came into the lord Percy's land and passed the river 
of Tyne without any let a three leagues above Newcastle 
not far from Brancepeth, and at last entered into the 
bishopric of Durham, where they found a good country. 

1 George, earl of March and Dunbar: the text gives Mare, but there was 
at this time no earl of Mar. 

83 



84 FROISSART'S CHRONICLES 

Then they began to make war, to slay people and to bren 
villages and to do many sore displeasures. 

As at that time the earl of Northumberland and the other 
lords and knights of that country knew nothing of their 
coming. When tidings came to Newcastle and to Durham 
that the Scots were abroad, and that they might well see by 
the fires and smoke abroad in the country, the earl sent to 
Newcastle his two sons and sent commandment to every man 
to draw to Newcastle, saying to his sons : ' Ye shall go to 
Newcastle and all the country shall assemble there, and I 
shall tarry at Alnwick, which is a passage that they must 
pass by. If we may enclose them, we shall speed well.' Sir 
Henry Percy and sir Ralph his brother obeyed their father's 
commandment and came thither with them of the country. 
The Scots rode burning and exiling the country, that the 
smoke thereof came to Newcastle. The Scots came to the 
gates of Durham and scrimmished there ; but they tarried not 
long but returned, as they had ordained before to do, and that 
they found by the way took and destroyed it. Between 
Durham and Newcastle is but twelve leagues English and a 
good country : there was no town, without it were closed, 
but it was brent, and they repassed the river of Tyne where 
they had passed before, and then came before Newcastle 
and there rested. All the English knights and squires of the 
country of York and bishopric of Durham were assembled 
at Newcastle, and thither came the seneschal of York, sir 
Ralph Lumley, sir Matthew Redman, captain of Berwick, 
sir Robert Ogle, sir Thomas Grey, sir Thomas Holton, sir 
John Felton, sir John Lilleburn, sir Thomas Abingdon, the 
baron of Hilton, sir John Coppledike and divers other, so that 
the town was so full of people that they wist not where to 
lodge. 

When these three Scottish earls who were chief captains 
had made their enterprise in the bishopric of Durham and 
had sore overrun the country, then they returned to New- 
castle and there rested and tarried two days, and every day 
they scrimmished. The earl of Northumberland's two sons 
were two young lusty knights and were ever foremost at the 
barriers to scrimmish. There were many proper feats of 
arms done and achieved: there was fighting hand to hand: 



THE BATTLE OF OTTERBURN 85 

among other there fought hand to hand the earl Douglas and 
sir Henry Percy, and by force of arms the earl Douglas won 
the pennon of sir Henry Percy's, wherewith he was sore 
displeased and so were all the Englishmen. And the earl 
Douglas said to sir Henry Percy : ' Sir, I shall bear this token 
of your prowess into Scotland and shall set it on high on my 
castle of Dalkeith, that it may be seen far off.' ' Sir,' quoth 
sir Henry, ' ye may be sure ye shall not pass the bounds of 
this country till ye be met withal in such wise that ye shall 
make none avaunt thereof.' ' Well, sir," quoth the earl 
Douglas, ' come this night to my lodging and seek for your 
pennon : I shall set it before my lodging and see if ye will 
come to take it away.' So then it was late, and the Scots 
withdrew to their lodgings and refreshed them with such as 
they had. They had flesh enough : they made that night good 
watch, for they thought surely to be awaked for the words 
they had spoken, but they were not, for sir Henry Percy was 
counselled not so to do. 

The next day the Scots dislodged and returned towards 
their own country, and so came to a castle and a town called 
Pontland, whereof sir Edmund of Alphel was lord, who was 
a right good knight. There the Scots rested, for they came 
thither betimes, and understood that the knight was in his 
castle. Then they ordained to assail the castle, and gave a 
great assault, so that by force of arms they won it and the 
knight within it. Then the town and castle was brent; and 
from thence the Scots went to the town and castle of Otter- 
burn, an eight English mile from Newcastle 2 and there 
lodged. That day they made none assault, but the next 
morning they blew their horns and made ready to assail 
the castle, which was strong, for it stood in the marish. 
That day they assaulted till they were weary, and did nothing. 
Then they sowned the retreat and returned to their lodgings. 
Then the lords drew to council to determine what they 

3 Froissart says ' eight English leagues.' In the next chapter the distance 
becomes ' seven little leagues,' and later on, ' a six English miles,' where 
the original is ' lieues.' The actual distance is about thirty miles. The 
translator gives the form ' Combur ' here, but ' Ottenburge ' in the next 
chapter, as the name of the place. It is remarkable indeed how little trouble 
he seems to have taken generally to give English names correctly. In this 
chapter we have ' Nymyche ' for ' Alnwick ' and ' Pouclan ' for ' Pontland,' 
forms rather less like the real names than those which he found in the 
French text, viz. Nynich and Ponclau. 



86 FROISSART'S CHRONICLES 

should do. The most part were of the accord that the next 
day they should dislodge without giving of any assault and 
to draw fair and easily towards Carlisle. But the earl 
Douglas brake that counsel and said : ' In despite of sir 
Henry Percy, who said he would come and win again his 
pennon, let us not depart hence for two or three days. Let 
us assail this castle: it is pregnable: we shall have double 
honour. And then let us see if he will come and fetch his 
pennon : he shall be well defended.' 3 Every man accorded to 
his saying, what for their honour and for the love of him. 
Also they lodged there at their ease, for there was none that 
troubled them : they made many lodgings of boughs and great 
herbs and fortified their camp sagely with the marish that 
was thereby, and their carriages were set at the entry into 
the marishes and had all their beasts within the marish. 
Then they apparelled for to assault the next day: this was 
their intention. 

Now let us speak of sir Henry Percy and of sir Ralph his 
brother and shew somewhat what they did. They were sore 
displeased that the earl Douglas had won the pennon of their 
arms : also it touched greatly their honours, if they did not 
as sir Henry Percy said he would ; for he had said to the earl 
Douglas that he should not carry his pennon out of England, 
and also he had openly spoken it before all the knights 
and squires that were at Newcastle. The Englishmen there 
thought surely that the earl Douglas' band was but the Scots' 
vanguard and that their host was left behind. The knights 
of the country, such as were well expert in arms, spake 
against sir Henry Percy's opinion and said to him : ' Sir, 
there fortuneth in war oftentimes many losses. If the earl 
Douglas have won your pennon, he bought it dear, for he 
came to the gate to seek it and was well beaten: 4 another 
day ye shall win as much of him or more. Sir, we say this 
because we know well all the power of Scotland is abroad 
in the fields, and if we issue out and be not men enow to 
fight with them, and peradventure they have made this 
scrimmish with us to the intent to draw us out of the 
town, and the number that they be of, as it is said, above 

3 Froissart says, ' if he comes, it shall be defended.' The translator per- 
haps means ' he shall be prevented.' 
1 i. e. ' well fought with.' 



THE BATTLE OF OTTERBURN 87 

forty thousand men, they may soon enclose us and do with 
us what they will. Yet it were better to lose a pennon than 
two or three hundred knights and squires and put all our 
country in adventure.' These words refrained sir Henry 
and his brother, for they would do nothing against counsel. 
Then tidings came to them by such as had seen the Scots 
and seen all their demeanour and what way they took and 
where they rested. 

HOW SIR HENRY PERCY AND HIS BROTHER WITH A GOOD NUMBER 
OF MEN OF ARMS AND ARCHERS WENT AFTER THE 
SCOTS, TO WIN AGAIN HIS PENNON THAT 
THE EARL DOUGLAS HAD WON BEFORE 
NEWCASTLE-UPON-TYNE, AND HOW 
THEY ASSAILED THE SCOTS BE- 
FORE OTTERBURN IN THEIR 
LODGINGS 

, It was shewed to sir Henry Percy and to his brother and 
to the other knights and squires that were there, by such as 
had followed the Scots from Newcastle and had well advised 
their doing, who said to sir Henry and to sir Ralph : ' Sirs, 
we have followed the Scots privily and have discovered all 
the country. The Scots be at Pontland and have taken sir 
Edmund Alphel in his own castle, and from thence they 
be gone to Otterburn and there they lay this night. What 
they will do to-morrow we know not: they are ordained to 
abide there: and, sirs, surely their great host is not with 
them, for in all they pass not there a three thousand men.' 
When sir Henry heard that, he was joyful and said: 'Sirs, 
let us leap on our horses, for by the faith I owe to God and 
to my lord my father I will go seek for my pennon and dis- 
lodge them this same night.' Knights and squires that 
heard him agreed thereto and were joyous, and every man 
made him ready. 

The same evening the bishop of Durham came thither with 
a good company, for he heard at Durham how the Scots were 
before Newcastle and how that the lord Percy's sons with 
other lords and knights should fight with the Scots : therefore 
the bishop of Durham to come to the rescue had assembled 

(f) hc xxxv 



88 FROISSART'S CHRONICLES 

up all the country and so was coming to Newcastle. But 
sir Henry Percy would not abide his coming, for he had with 
him six hundred spears, knights and squires, and an eight 
thousand footmen. They thought that sufficient number to 
fight with the Scots, if they were not but three hundred 
spears and three thousand of other. Thus they departed 
from Newcastle after dinner and set forth in good order, and 
took the same way as the Scots had gone and rode to Otter- 
burn, a seven little leagues from thence and fair way, but 
they could not ride fast because of their foot-men. And 
when the Scots had supped and some laid down to their 
rest, and were weary of travailing and assaulting of the 
castle all that day, and thought to rise early in the morning 
in cool of the day to give a new assault, therewith suddenly 
the Englishmen came on them and entered into the lodgings, 
weening it had been the masters' lodgings, and therein were 
but varlets and servants. Then the Englishmen cried, 
' Percy, Percy ! ' and entered into the lodgings, and ye know 
well where such affray is noise is soon raised : and it fortuned 
well for the Scots, for when they saw the Englishmen came 
to wake them, then the lord sent a certain of their servants 
of foot-men to scrimmish with the Englishmen at the 
entry of the lodgings, and in the mean time they armed 
and apparelled them, every man under his banner and 
under his captain's pennon. The night was far on, but the 
moon shone so bright as an it had been in a manner day. 
It was in the month of August and the weather fair and 
temperate. 

Thus the Scots were drawn together and without any 
noise departed from their lodgings and went about a little 
mountain, which was greatly for their advantage. For all 
the day before they had well advised the place and said 
among themselves: ' If the Englishmen come on us suddenly, 
then we will do thus and thus, for it is a jeopardous thing 
in the night if men of war enter into our lodgings. If they 
do, then we will draw to such a place, and thereby other we 
shall win or lose.' When the Englishmen entered into the 
field, at the first they soon overcame the varlets, and as they 
entered further in, always they found new men to busy them 
and to scrimmish with them. Then suddenly came the Scots 



THE BATTLE OF OTTERBURN 89 

from about the mountain and set on the Englishmen or they 
were ware, and cried their cries ; whereof the Englishmen 
were sore astonied. Then they cried ' Percy ! ' and the other 
party cried ' Douglas ! ' 

There began a cruel battle and at the first encounter many 
were overthrown of both parties; and because the English- 
men were a great number and greatly desired to vanquish 
their enemies, and rested at their pace 1 and greatly did put 
aback the Scots, so that the Scots were near discomfited. 
Then the earl James Douglas, who was young and strong and 
of great desire to get praise and grace, and was willing to 
deserve to have it, and cared for no pain nor travail, came 
forth with his banner and cried, ' Douglas, Douglas ! ' and 
sir Henry Percy and sir Ralph his brother, who had great 
indignation against the earl Douglas because he had won 
the pennon of their arms at the barriers before Newcastle, 
came to that part and cried, ' Percy ! ' Their two banners 
met and their men : there was a sore fight : the Englishmen 
were so strong and fought so valiantly that they reculed 
the Scots back. There were two valiant knights of Scots 
under the banner of the earl Douglas, called sir Patrick of 
Hepbourn and sir Patrick his son. They acquitted them- 
selves that day valiantly: the earl's banner had been won, 
an they had not been : they defended it so valiantly and in 
the rescuing thereof did such feats of arms, that it was 
greatly to their recommendation and to their heirs' for ever 
after. 

It was shewed me by such as had been at the same battle, 
as well by knights and squires of England as of Scotland, at 
the house of the earl of Foix, — for anon after this battle 
was done I met at Orthez two squires of England called John 
of Chateauneuf and John of Cantiron ; also when I returned 
to Avignon I found also there a knight and a squire of 
Scotland; I knew them and they knew me by such tokens 
as I shewed them of their country, for I, author of this book, 
in my youth had ridden nigh over all the realm of Scotland, 
and I was as then a fifteen days in the house of earl William 
Douglas, father to the same earl James, of whom I spake 
of now, in a castle of five leagues from Edinburgh in the 

1 In French, ' ilz se arresterent,' without ' and.' 



90 FROISSART'S CHRONICLES 

country of Dalkeith f the same time I saw there this earl 
James, a fair young child, and a sister of his called the lady 
Blanche, — and I was informed by both these parties 3 how 
this battle was as sore a battle fought as lightly hath been 
heard of before of such a number; and I believe it well, for 
Englishmen on the one party and Scots on the other party 
are good men of war, for when they meet there is a hard 
fight without sparing, there is no ho between them as long 
as spears, swords, axes or daggers will endure, but lay on 
each upon other, and when they be well beaten 4 and that 
the one party hath obtained the victory, they then glorify so 
in their deeds of arms and are so joyful, that such as be 
taken they shall be ransomed or they go out of the field, so 
that shortly each of them is so content with other that at 
their departing courteously they will say, ' God thank you' ; 
but in fighting one with another there is no play nor sparing, 
and this is true, and that shall well appear by this said 
rencounter, for it was as valiantly foughten as could be de- 
vised, as ye shall hear. 



HOW THE EARL JAMES DOUGLAS BY HIS VALIANTNESS EN- 
COURAGED HIS MEN,, WHO WERE RECULED AND IN A 
MANNER DISCOMFITED, AND IN HIS SO DOING 
HE WAS WOUNDED TO DEATH 

Knights and squires were of good courage on both parties 
to fight valiantly : cowards there had no place, but hardi- 
ness reigned with goodly feats of arms, for knights and 
squires were so joined together at hand strokes, that archers 
had no place of nother party. There the Scots shewed 
great hardiness and fought merrily with great desire of 
honour : the Englishmen were three to one : howbeit, I say 
not but Englishmen did nobly acquit themselves, for ever 
the Englishmen had rather been slain or taken in the place 
than to fly. Thus, as I have said, the banners of Douglas 
and Percy and their men were met each against other, 

3 ' Which is called in the country Dalkeith.' The French has ' que on 
nomme au pays Dacquest,' of which the translator makes ' in the countrey 
of Alquest.' 

3 ' By both sides,' i. e. Scotch and English. 

* ' When they have well fought.' 



THE BATTLE OF OTTERBURN 91 

envious who should win the honour of that journey. At the 
beginning the Englishmen were so strong that they reculed 
back their enemies: then the earl Douglas, who was of 
great heart and high of enterprise, seeing his men recule 
back, then to recover the place and to shew knightly valour 
he took his axe in both his hands, and entered so into the 
press that he made himself way in such wise, that none durst 
approach near him, and he was so well armed that he 
bare well off such strokes as he received. 1 Thus he went 
ever forward like a hardy Hector, willing alone to conquer 
the field and to discomfit his enemies : but at last he was en- 
countered with three spears all at once, the one strake him on 
the shoulder, the other on the breast and the stroke glinted 
down to his belly, and the third strake him in the thigh, and 
sore hurt with all three strokes, so that he was borne per- 
force to the earth and after that he could not be again 
relieved. Some of his knights and squires followed him, 
but not all, for it was night, and no light but by the shining 
of the moon. The Englishmen knew well they had borne one 
down to the earth, but they wist not who it was; for if 
they had known that it had been the earl Douglas, they 
had been thereof so joyful and so proud that the victory 
had been theirs. Nor also the Scots knew not of that adven- 
ture till the end of the battle; for if they had known it, 
they should have been so sore despaired and discouraged 
that they would have fled away. Thus as the earl Douglas 
was felled to the earth, he was stricken into the head with 
an axe, and another stroke through the thigh : the English- 
men passed forth and took no heed of him: they thought none 
otherwise but that they had slain a man of arms. On the 
other part the earl George de la March and of Dunbar fought 
right valiantly and gave the Englishmen much ado, and 
cried, ' Follow Douglas,' and set on the sons of Percy : also 
earl John of Moray with his banner and men fought valiant- 
ly and set fiercely on the Englishmen, and gave them so 
much to do that they wist not to whom to attend. 

1 ' No man was so well armed that he did not fear the great strokes 
which he gave.' 



92 FROISSART'S CHRONICLES 



HOW IN THIS BATTLE SIR RALPH PERCY WAS SORE HURT AND 
TAKEN PRISONER BY A SCOTTISH KNIGHT 

Of all the battles and encounterings that I have made men- 
tion of herebefore in all this history, great or small, this 
battle that I treat of now was one of the sorest and best 
foughten without cowardice or faint hearts. For there was 
nother knight nor squire but that did his devoir and fought 
hand to hand: this battle was like the battle of Becherel, 1 
the which was valiantly fought and endured. The earl 
of Northumberland's sons, sir Henry and sir Ralph Percy, 
who were chief sovereign captains, acquitted themselves 
nobly, and sir Ralph Percy entered in so far among his 
enemies that he was closed in and hurt, and so sore handled 
that his breath was so short, that he was taken prisoner by 
a knight of the earl of Moray's called sir John Maxwell. 
In the taking the Scottish knight demanded what he was, for 
it was in the night, so that he knew him not, and sir Ralph was 
so sore overcome and bled fast, that at last he said : ' I am 
Ralph Percy.' Then the Scot said : ' Sir Ralph, rescue or 
no rescue I take you for my prisoner: I am Maxwell.' 
' Well,' quoth sir Ralph, c I am content : but then take heed 
to me, for I am sore hurt, my hosen and my greaves are full 
of blood.' Then the knight saw by him the earl Moray and 
said : ' Sir, here I deliver to you sir Ralph Percy as prisoner ; 
but, sir, let good heed be taken to him, for he is sore hurt.' 
The earl was joyful of these words and said: ' Maxwell, thou 
hast well won thy spurs.' Then he delivered sir Ralph Percy 
to certain of his men, and they stopped and wrapped his 
wounds : and still the battle endured, not knowing who had 
as then the better, for there were many taken and rescued 
again that came to no knowledge. 

Now let us speak of the young James earl of Douglas, who 
did marvels in arms or he was beaten down. When he was 
overthrown, the press was great about him, so that he 
could not relieve, for with an axe he had his death's wound. 
His men followed him as near as they could, and there came 
to him sir James Lindsay his cousin and sir John and sir 

1 Or, according to another reading, ' Cocherel.' 



THE BATTLE OF OTTERBURN 93 

Walter Sinclair and other knights and squires. And by him 
was a gentle knight of his, who followed him all the day, and 
a chaplain of his, not like a priest but like a valiant man of 
arms, for all that night he followed the earl with a good 
axe in his hands and still scrimmished about the earl there- 
as he lay, and reculed back some of the Englishmen with 
great strokes that he gave. Thus he was found fighting near 
to his master, whereby he had great praise, and thereby the 
same year he was made archdeacon of Aberdeen. This 
priest was called sir William of North Berwick: he was a 
tall man and a hardy and was sore hurt. When these knights 
came to the earl, they found him in an evil case and a knight 
of his lying by him called sir Robert Hart : he had a fifteen 
wounds in one place and other. Then sir John Sinclair de- 
manded of the earl how he did. ' Right evil, cousin/ quoth 
the earl, ' but thanked be God there hath been but a few 
of mine ancestors that hath died in their beds: but, cousin, 
I require you think to revenge me, for I reckon myself 
but dead, for my heart fainteth oftentimes. My cousin 
Walter and you, I pray you raise up again my banner 
which lieth on the ground, and my squire Davie Collemine 
slain: but, sirs, shew nother to friend nor foe in what 
case ye see me in ; for if mine enemies knew it, they 
would rejoice, and our friends discomforted.' The two 
brethren of Sinclair and sir James Lindsay did as the earl 
had desired them and raised up again his banner and cried 
' Douglas ! ' Such as were behind and heard that cry drew 
together and set on their enemies valiantly and reculed back 
the Englishmen and many overthrown, and so drave the 
Englishmen back beyond the place whereas the earl lay, who 
was by that time dead, and so came to the earl's banner, 
the which sir John Sinclair held in his hands, and many good 
knights and squires of Scotland about him, and still company 
drew to the cry of ' Douglas.' Thither came the earl Moray 
with his banner well accompanied, and also the earl de la 
March and of Dunbar, and when they saw the Englishmen 
recule and their company assembled together, they renewed 
again the battle and gave many hard and sad strokes. 



94 FROISSART'S CHRONICLES 

HOW THE SCOTS WON THE BATTLE AGAINST THE ENGLISHMEN 

BESIDE OTTERBURN, AND THERE WAS TAKEN PRISONERS SIR 

HENRY AND SIR RALPH PERCY, AND HOW AN ENGLISH 

SQUIRE WOULD NOT YIELD HIM, NO MORE WOULD 

A SCOTTISH SQUIRE, AND SO DIED BOTH ; AND 

HOW THE BISHOP OF DURHAM AND HIS 

COMPANY WERE DISCOMFITED 

AMONG THEMSELVES 

To say truth, the Englishmen were sorer travailed than the 
Scots, for they came the same day from Newcastle-upon- 
Tyne, a six English miles, and went a great pace to the 
intent to find the Scots, which they did; so that by their 
fast going they were near out of breath, and the Scots were 
fresh and well rested, which greatly availed them when 
time was of their business: for in the last scrimmish they 
reculed back the Englishmen in such wise, that after that 
they could no more assemble together, for the Scots passed 
through their battles. And it fortuned that sir Henry 
Percy and the lord of Montgomery, a valiant knight of Scot- 
land, fought together hand to hand right valiantly without 
letting of any other, for every man had enough to do. So 
long they two fought that per force of arms sir Henry 
Percy was taken prisoner by the said lord of Montgomery. 

The knights and squires of Scotland, as sir Marc Adre- 
man, 1 sir Thomas Erskine, sir William, sir James and sir 
Alexander Lindsay, the lord of Fenton, sir John of Saint- 
Moreaulx, 2 sir Patrick of Dunbar, sir John and sir Walter 
Sinclair, sir John Maxwell, sir Guy Stuart, sir John Hali- 
burton, sir Alexander Ramsay, Robert Collemine 3 and his 
two sons John and Robert; who were there made knights, 
and a hundred knights and squires that I cannot name, all 
these right valiantly did acquit themselves. And on the 
English party, before that the lord Percy was taken and 
after, there fought valiantly sir Ralph Lumley, sir Matthew 
Redman, sir Thomas Ogle, sir Thomas Gray, sir Thomas 
Helton, sir Thomas Abingdon, sir John Lilleburn, sir 
William Walsingham, the baron of Helton, sir John of 

1 Perhaps ' Malcolm Drummond.' 
2 The true reading seems to be ' Sandilands.' 3 Perhaps ' Coningham.' 



THE BATTLE OP OTTERBURN 95 

Colpedich,* the seneschal of York and divers other foot- 
men. Whereto should I write long process? This was a 
sore battle and well foughten ; and as fortune is always 
changeable, though the Englishmen were more in number 
than the Scots and were right valiant men of war and well 
expert, and that at the first front they reculed back the 
Scots, yet finally the Scots obtained the place and victory, 
and all the foresaid Englishmen taken, and a hundred more, 
saving sir Matthew Redman, captain of Berwick, who when 
he knew no remedy nor recoverance, and saw his company 
fly from the Scots and yielded them on every side, then he 
took his horse and departed to save himself. 

The same season about the end of this discomfiture there 
was an English squire called Thomas Waltham, a goodly and 
a valiant man, and that was well seen, for of all that night 
he would nother fly nor yet yield him. It was said he had 
made a vow at a feast in England, that the first time that 
ever he saw Englishmen and Scots in battle, he would so do 
his devoir to his power, in such wise that either he would be 
reputed for the best doer on both sides or else to die in the 
pain. He was called a valiant and a hardy man and did 
so much by his prowess, that under the banner of the earl 
of Moray he did such valiantness in arms, that the Scots had 
marvel thereof, and so was slain in fighting: the Scots would 
gladly have taken him alive, but he would never yield, he 
hoped ever to have been rescued. And with him there was 
a Scottish squire slain, cousin to the king of Scots, called 
Simon Glendowyn; his death was greatly complained of the 
Scots. 

This battle was fierce and cruel till it came to the end of 
the discomfiture; but when the Scots saw the Englishmen 
recule and yield themselves, then the Scots were courteous 
and set them to their ransom, and every man said to his 
prisoner : ' Sirs, go and unarm you and take your ease ; I 
am your master :' and so made their prisoners as good cheer 
as though they had been brethren, without doing to them 
any damage. The chase endured a five English miles, and 
if the Scots had been men enow, there had none scaped, but 
other they had been taken or slain. And if Archambault 

1 Either ' Copeland ' or ' Copeldike.' 



96 FROISSART'S CHRONICLES 

Douglas and the earl of Fife, the earl Sutherland and other 
of the great company who were gone towards Carlisle had 
been there, by all likelihood they had taken the bishop of 
Durham and the town of Newcastle-upon-Tyne. I shall 
shew you how. The same evening that the Percies departed 
from Newcastle, as ye have heard before, the bishop of 
Durham with the rearband came to Newcastle and supped : 
and as he sat at the table, he had imagination in himself how 
he did not acquit himself well to see the Englishmen in the 
field and he to be within the town. Incontinent he caused 
the table to be taken away and commanded to saddle his 
horses and to sown the trumpets, and called up men in 
the town to arm themselves and to mount on their horses, 
and foot-men to order themselves to depart. And thus every 
man departed out of the town to the number of seven thou- 
sand, two thousand on horseback and five thousand afoot; 
they took their way toward Otterburn, whereas the battle had 
been. And by that time they had gone two mile 1 from 
Newcastle tidings came to them how their men were fight- 
ing with the Scots. Therewith the bishop rested there, and 
incontinent came more flying fast, that they were out of 
breath. Then they were demanded how the matter went. 
They answered and said : ' Right evil ; we be all discomfited : 
here cometh the Scots chasing of us.' These tidings troubled 
the Englishmen, and began to doubt. And again the third 
time men came flying as fast as they might. When the men 
of the bishopric of Durham heard of these evil tidings, they 
were abashed in such wise that they brake their array, so 
that the bishop could not hold together the number of five 
hundred. It was thought that if the Scots had followed 
them in any number, seeing that it was night, that in the 
entering into the town, and the Englishmen so abashed, the 
town had been won. 

The bishop of Durham, being in the field, had good will 
to have succoured the Englishmen and recomforted his men 
as much as he could; but he saw his own men fly as well 
as other. Then he demanded counsel of sir William Lucy 
and of sir Thomas Clifford and of other knights, what was 
best to do. These knights for their honour would give him 

1 The word ' lieue ' is translated ' mile ' throughout. 



THE BATTLE OF OTTERBURN 97 

no counsel; for they thought to return again and do nothing 
should sown greatly to their blame, and to go forth might 
be to their great damage; and so stood still and would give 
none answer, and the longer they stood, the fewer they 
were, for some still stale away. Then the bishop said: 
' Sirs, all things considered, it is none honour to put all in 
peril, nor to make of one evil damage twain. We hear 
how our company be discomfited, and we cannot remedy it: 
for to go to recover them, we know not with whom nor with 
what number we shall meet. Let us return fair and easily 
for this night to Newcastle, and to-morrow let us draw 
together and go look on our enemies.' Every man an- 
swered : ' As God will, so be it.' Therewith they returned to 
Newcastle. Thus a man may consider the great default 
that is in men that be abashed and discomfited: for if 
they had kept them together and have turned again such 
as fled, they had discomfited the Scots. This was the 
opinion of divers; and because they did not thus, the Scots 
had the victory. 

HOW SIR MATTHEW REDMEN DEPARTED FROM THE BATTLE 

TO SAVE HIMSELF ; AND HOW SIR JAMES LINDSAY WAS 

TAKEN PRISONER BY THE BISHOP OF DURHAM ; AND 

HOW AFTER THE BATTLE SCURRERS WERE SENT 

FORTH TO DISCOVER THE COUNTRY 

I shall shew you of sir Matthew Redman, who was on 
horseback to save himself, for he alone could not remedy 
the matter. At his departing sir James Lindsay was near to 
him and saw how sir Matthew departed, and this sir James, 
to win honour, followed in chase sir Matthew Redman, 
and came so near him that he might have striken him with 
his spear, if he had list. Then he said : ' Ah, sir knight, 
turn; it is a shame thus to fly: I am James of Lindsay: if 
ye will not turn, I shall strike you on the back with my 
spear.' Sir Matthew spake no word, but strake his horse with 
the spurs sorer than he did before. In this manner he 
chased him more than three miles, and at last sir Matthew 
Redman's horse foundered and fell under him. Then he 
stept forth on the earth and drew out his sword, and took 



98 FROISSART'S CHRONICLES 

courage to defend himself; and the Scot thought to have 
stricken him on the breast, but sir Matthew Redman 
swerved from the stroke, and the spear-point entered into 
the earth. Then sir Matthew strake asunder the spear with 
his sword; and when sir James Lindsay saw how he had 
lost his spear, he cast away the truncheon and lighted afoot, 
and took a little battle-axe that he carried at his back and 
handled it with his one hand quickly and deliverly, in 
the which feat Scots be well expert, and then he set at 
sir Matthew and he defended himself properly. Thus 
they tourneyed together, one with an axe and the other 
with a sword, a long season, and no man to let them. 
Finally sir James Lindsay gave the knight such strokes 
and held him so short, that he was put out of breath in 
such wise that he yielded himself, and said : ' Sir James 
Lindsay, I yield me to you.' ' Well,' quoth he, ' and I 
receive you, rescue or no rescue.' ' I am content,' quoth 
Redman, ' so ye deal with me like a good companion.' ' I 
shall not fail that,' quoth Lindsay, and so put up his sword. 
' Well, sir,' quoth Redman, ' what will you now that I shall 
do? I am your prisoner, ye have conquered me. I would 
gladly go again to Newcastle, and within fifteen days I shall 
come to you into Scotland, whereas ye shall assign me.' ' I 
am content/ quoth Lindsay : ' ye shall promise by your faith 
to present yourself within this three weeks at Edinboro, and 
wheresoever ye go, to repute yourself my prisoner.' All this 
sir Matthew sware and promised to fulfil. Then each of 
them took their horses and took leave each of other. Sir 
James returned, and his intent was to go to his own com- 
pany the same way that he came, and sir Matthew Redman 
to Newcastle. 

Sir James Lindsay could not keep the right way as he 
came : it was dark and a mist, and he had not ridden half a 
mile, but he met face to face with the bishop of Durham 
and more than five hundred Englishmen with him. He 
might well escaped if he had would, but he supposed it had 
been his own company, that had pursued the Englishmen. 
When he was among them, one demanded of him what he 
was. ' I am/ quoth he, ' sir James Lindsay.' The bishop 
heard those words and stept to him and said : ' Lindsay, ye 



A?i Example of Manuscript Illustration 

Embarking for the Crusades 

o?ii a Manuscript of the Fourteenth Century 
in the 'Museum of the Louvre, Paris 




night to 

stroke, a it entered into 

en sir Matthc pear with 

d when s: -v how he had 

he cast awa : hted afoot, 

• little battle-. ; and 

.; with his one 

hich feat Scots md then he set at 

sir Matthew and' he defended hi, Thus 

tourneyed together, orie v 

a sword, a long season, and let them. 

Finally sir, James Lindsay gave the knight such strokes, 
and held him so short, that he was put out of breath in 
such and said : ' Sir James 

W*K<fe> ' and l 



shall 

'Wei? 



content/ quoth 
•nion.' ' I 

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and . 
mig] i 
been his 
When he was 
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ich of 

Sir 
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as he 
half a 

it he 

ishcp 

Lindsay, ye 



THE BATTLE OF OTTERBURN 99 

are taken : yield ye to me.' ' Who be you ? ' quoth Lindsay. 
' I am,' quoth he, ' the bishop of Durham.' ' And from 
whence come you, sir ? ' quoth Lindsay. • I come from the 
battle,' quoth the bishop, ' but I struck never a stroke there : 
I go back to Newcastle for this night, and ye shall go with 
me.' ' I may not choose,' quoth Lindsay, ' sith ye will have it 
so. I have taken and I am taken; such is the adventures of 
arms.' ' Whom have ye taken ? ' quoth the bishop. ' Sir,' 
quoth he, ' I took in the chase sir Matthew Redman.' ' And 
where is he ? ' quoth the bishop. ' By my faith, sir, he is 
returned to Newcastle: he desired me to trust him on his 
faith for three weeks, and so have I done.' ' Well,' quoth 
the bishop, ' let us go to Newcastle, and there ye shall speak 
with him.' Thus they rode to Newcastle together, and sir 
James Lindsay was prisoner to the bishop of Durham. 

Under the banner of the earl de la March and of Dunbar 
was taken a squire of Gascoyne, called John of Chateauneuf, 
and under the banner of the earl of Moray was taken his 
companion John de Cantiron. Thus the field was clean 
avoided, or the day appeared. The Scots drew together and 
took guides and sent out scurrers to see if any men were 
in the way from Newcastle, to the intent that they would 
not be troubled in their lodgings; wherein they did wisely, 
for when the bishop of Durham was come again to New- 
castle and in his lodging, he was sore pensive and wist not 
what to say nor do; for he heard say how his cousins the 
Percies were slain or taken, and all the knights that were 
with them. Then he sent for all the knights and squires that 
were in the town; and when they were come, he demanded 
of them if they should leave the matter in that case, and 
said: 'Sirs, we shall bear great blame if we thus return 
without looking on our enemies.' Then they concluded by 
the sun-rising every man to be armed, and on horseback 
and afoot to depart out of the town and to go to Otterburn 
to fight with the Scots. This was warned through the town 
by a trumpet, and every man armed them and assembled 
before the bridge, and by the sun-rising they departed by 
the gate towards Berwick and took the way. towards Otter- 
burn to the number of ten thousand, what afoot and a-horse- 
back. They were not gone past two mile from Newcastle, 



100 FROISSART'S CHRONICLES 

when the Scots were signified that the bishop of Durham 
was coming to themward to fight: this they knew by their 
spies, such as they had set in the fields. 

After that sir Matthew Redman was returned to New- 
castle and had shewed to divers how he had been taken 
prisoner by sir James Lindsay, then it was shewed him 
how the bishop of Durham had taken the said sir James 
Lindsay and how that he was there in the town as his 
prisoner. As soon as the bishop was departed, sir Matthew 
Redman went to the bishop's lodging to see his master, and 
there he found him in a study, lying in a window, 1 and said : 
' What, sir James Lindsay, what make you here ? ' Then 
sir James came forth of the study to him and gave him good 
morrow, and said : ' By my faith, sir Matthew, fortune hath 
brought me hither; for as soon as I was departed from you, 
I met by chance the bishop of Durham, to whom I am pris- 
oner, as ye be to me. I believe ye shall not need to come to 
Edinboro to me to make your finance : I think rather we 
shall make an exchange one for another, if the bishop be 
so content.' ' Well, sir,' quoth Redman, ' we shall accord 
right well together, ye shall dine this day with me : the 
bishop and our men be gone forth to fight with your men, 
I cannot tell what shall fall, we shall know at their return.' 
' I am content to dine with you,' quoth Lindsay. Thus these 
two knights dined together in Newcastle. 

When the knights of Scotland were informed how the 
bishop of Durham came on them with ten thousand men, 
they drew to council to see what was best for them to do, 
other to depart or else to abide the adventure. All things 
considered, they concluded to abide, for they said they could 
not be in a better nor a stronger place than they were in 
already: they had many prisoners and they could not carry 
them away, if they should have departed; and also they had 
many of their men hurt and also some of their prisoners, 
whom they thought they would not leave behind them. Thus 
they drew together and ordered so their field, that there was 
no entry but one way, and they set all their prisoners to- 
gether and made them to promise how that, rescue or no 

1 Or rather, ' very pensive leaning against a window,' and afterwards the 
expression ' came forth of the study to him ' should be ' broke off his 
thought and came towards him.' 



THE BATTLE OF OTTERBURN 101 

rescue, they should be their prisoners. After that they made 
all their minstrels to blow up all at once and made the 
greatest revel of the world. Lightly it is the usage of Scots, 
that when they be thus assembled together in arms, the foot- 
men beareth about their necks horns in manner like hunters, 
some great, some small, and of all sorts, so that when they 
blow all at once, they make such a noise, that it may be heard 
nigh four miles off: thus they do to abash their enemies 
and to rejoice themselves. When the bishop of Durham with 
his banner and ten thousand men with him were approached 
within a league, then the Scots blew their horns in such 
wise, that it seemed that all the devils in hell had been 
among them, so that such as heard them and knew not of 
their usage were sore abashed. This blowing and noise 
endured a long space and then ceased: and by that time the 
Englishmen were within less than a mile. Then the Scots 
began to blow again and made a great noise, and as long 
endured as it did before. Then the bishop approached with 
his battle well ranged in good order and came within the 
sight of the Scots, as within two bow-shot or less: then the 
Scots blew again their horns a long space. The bishop stood 
still to see what the Scots would do and aviewed them well 
and saw how they were in a strong ground greatly to their 
advantage. Then the bishop took counsel what was best for 
him to do; but all things well advised, they were not in 
purpose to enter in among the Scots to assail them, but re- 
turned without doing of anything, for they saw well they 
might rather lose than win. 

When the Scots saw the Englishmen recule and that they 
should have no battle, they went to their lodgings and 
made merry, and then ordained to depart from thence. 
And because that sir Ralph Percy was sore hurt, he desired 
of his master that he might return to Newcastle or into 
some place, whereas it pleased him, unto such time as he 
were whole of his hurts, promising, as soon as he were 
able to ride, to return into Scotland, other to Edinboro or 
into any other place appointed. The earl of March, under 
whom he was taken, agreed thereto and delivered him a 
horse litter and sent him away; and by like covenant divers 
other knights and squires were suffered to return and took 



102 FROISSART'S CHRONICLES 

term other to return or else to pay their finance, such as 
they were appointed unto. It was shewed me by the in- 
formation of the Scots, such as had been at this said battle 
that was between Newcastle and Otterburn in the year of 
our Lord God a thousand three hundred fourscore and eight, 
the nineteenth day of August, how that there were taken 
prisoners of the English party a thousand and forty men, 
one and other, and slain in the field and in the chase eigh- 
teen hundred and forty, and sore hurt more than a thou- 
sand : and of the Scots there were a hundred slain, and taken 
in the chase more than two hundred; for as the English- 
men fled, when they saw any advantage they returned again 
and fought: by that means the Scots were taken and none 
otherwise. Every man may well consider that it was a 
well fought field, when there were so many slain and taken 
on both parties. 

HOW THE SCOTS DEPARTED AND CARRIED WITH THEM THE 

EARL DOUGLAS DEAD, AND BURIED HIM IN THE ABBEY OF 

MELROSE; AND HOW SIR ARCHAMBAULT DOUGLAS AND 

HIS COMPANY DEPARTED FROM BEFORE CARLISLE 

AND RETURNED INTO SCOTLAND 

After this battle thus finished, every man returned, 1 and 
the earl Douglas' dead body chested and laid in a chare, 
and with him sir Robert Hart and Simon Glendowyn, then 
they prepared to depart : so they departed and led with 
them sir Henry Percy and more than forty knights of Eng- 
land, and took the way to the abbey of Melrose. At their 
departing they set fire in their lodgings, and rode all the 
day, and yet lay that night in the English ground: none 
denied them. The next day they dislodged early in the 
morning and so came that day to Melrose. It is an abbey 
of black monks on the border between both realms. There 
they rested and buried the earl James Douglas. The 
second day after his obsequy was done reverently, and on 
his body laid a tomb of stone and his banner hanging 
over him. Whether there were as then any more earls of 
Douglas, to whom the land returned, or not, I cannot tell ; 

1 That is, 'After the battle was over and every man had returned,' but 
it should be, ' After all this was done and everything was gathered together.' 



THE BATTLE OF OTTERBURN 103 

for I, sir John Froissart, author of this book, was in 
Scotland in the earl's castle of Dalkeith, living earl William, 
at which time he had two children, a son and a daughter; 
but after there were many of the Douglases, for I have 
seen a five brethren, all squires, bearing the name of Douglas, 
in the king of Scotland's house, David; they were sons 
to a knight in Scotland called sir James Douglas, and they 
bare in their arms gold, three oreilles gules, but as for 
the heritage, I know not who had it: as for sir Archam- 
bault Douglas, of whom I have spoken before in this his- 
tory in divers places, who was a valiant knight, and greatly 
redoubted of the Englishmen, he was but a bastard. 

When these Scots had been at Melrose abbey and done 
there all that they came thither for, then they departed 
each from other and went into their own countries, and 
such as had prisoners, some led them away with them and 
some were ransomed and suffered to return. Thus the 
Englishmen found the Scots right courteous and gentle 
in their deliverance and ransom, so that they were well 
content. This was shewed me in the country of Beam 
in the earl of Foix's house by a knight named John of 
Chateauneuf, who was taken prisoner at the same journey 
under the banner of the earl of March and Dunbar: and he 
greatly praised the said earl, for he suffered him to pass 
in manner as he desired himself. 

Thus these men of war of Scotland departed, and ran- 
somed their prisoners as soon as they might right court- 
eously, and so returned little and little into their own 
countries. And it was shewed me and I believe it well, 
that the Scots had by reason of that journey two hundred 
thousand franks for ransoming of prisoners: for sith the- 
battle that was before Stirling in Scotland, whereas sir 
Robert of Bruce, sir William Douglas, sir Robert Versy, 
sir Simon Fraser and other Scots chased the Englishmen 
three days, they never had journey so profitable nor so 
honourable for them, as this was. When tidings came to 
the other company of the Scots that were beside Carlisle, 
how their company had • distressed the Englishmen beside 
Otterburn, they were greatly rejoiced, and displeased in 
their minds that they had not been there. Then they deter- 

(g) hc xxxv 



104 FROISSART'S CHRONICLES 

mined to dislodge and to draw into their own countries, 
seeing their other company were withdrawn. Thus they 
dislodged and entered into Scotland. 

Now let us leave to speak of the Scots and of the English- 
men for this time, and let us return to the young Charles 
of France, who with a great people went into Almaine, to 
bring the duke of Gueldres to reason. 

When the French king and all his army were past the 
river of Meuse at the bridge of Morsay, they took the way 
of Ardennes and of Luxembourg, and always the pioneers 
were before, beating woods and bushes and making the 
ways plain. The duke of Juliers and his country greatly 
doubted the coming of the French king, for they knew 
well they should have the first assault and bear the first 
burden: and the land of Juliers is a plain country; in one 
day the men of war should do much damage there, and 
destroy and waste all, except the castles and good towns. 
Thus the French king entered into the country of Luxem- 
bourg and came to an abbey, whereas Wenceslas sometime 
duke of Brabant was buried. There the king tarried two 
days : then he departed and took the way through Bastogne, 
and lodged within a league whereas the duchess of Brabant 
lay. She sent word of her being there to the duke of 
Burgoyne, and he brought her into the field to speak with 
the king, who received her right honourably, and there 
communed together. Then the duchess returned to Bastogne, 
and thither she was conveyed with sir John of Vienne and 
sir Guy of Tremouille ; and the next day the king went 
forward, approaching to the land of his enemies, and came 
to the entering into Almaine, on the frontiers of the 
duchy of Juliers. But or he came so far forward, Arnold 
bishop of Liege had been with the king and had greatly 
entreated for the duke of Juliers, that the king should not 
be miscontent with him, though he were father to the duke 
of Gueldres ; for he excused him of the defiance that his 
son had made, affirming how it was not by his knowledge 
nor consent, wherefore, he said, it were pity that the 
father should bear the default of the son. This excuse was 
not sufficient to the king nor to his uncles : for the intent 
of the king and his council was, without the duke of 



THE BATTLE OF OTTERBURN 105 

Juliers would come and make other manner of excuse, and 
to yield himself to the king's pleasure, his country should 
be the first that should bear the burden. Then the bishop 
of Liege and the lords of Hesbaing and the councils of the 
good towns offered to the king and his council wholly the 
bishopric of Liege for his army to pass and repass paying 
for their expenses, and to rest and refresh them there as 
long as it pleased them. The king thanked them, and so did 
his uncles, and would not refuse their offer, for he knew 
not what need he should have after. 



THE HOLY GRAIL FROM THE 
BOOK OF KING ARTHUR 



BY 
SIR THOMAS MALORY 



INTRODUCTORY NOTE 

The earliest extant form of the story of the Holy Grail is the 
French metrical romance of "Perceval" or " Le Conte du 
Graal " of Chretien de Troies, written about 1175. Chretien 
died leaving the poem unfinished, and it was continued by three 
other authors till it reached the vast size of 63,000 lines. The 
religious signification of the Grail is supposed to have been at- 
tached to it early in the thirteenth century by Robert de Boron; 
and, perhaps a little later, in the French prose " Quest of the 
Holy Grail," Galahad takes the place of Perceval as the hero of 
the story. The later history of the various versions of the legend 
is highly intricate, and in many points uncertain. It was from a 
form of it embodied in the French prose "Lancelot" that Sir 
Thomas Malory drew the chapters of his " Morte d' Arthur" 
which are here reprinted, and which, more than the earlier ver- 
sions, are the source from which the legend has pasted into 
modern English poetry. 

Until a few years ago Malory himself was little more than 
a name, our information about him being limited to the statement 
in Caxton's edition of the "Morte d' Arthur" that he was the 
author. It now appears probable, however, that Sir Thomas 
Malory was an English knight born about 1400, of an old War- 
wickshire family. He served in the French wars under Richard 
Beauchamp, Earl of Warwick, " whom all Europe recognised as 
embodying the knightly ideal of the age," and may well have 
owed his enthusiasm for chivalry to his association with this 
distinguished nobleman. He died in 1471. 

Malory's book is a compilation from French and English sources. 
These are chosen without much discrimination, and put together 
without great skill in arrangement. But the author's zvhole- 
hearted enthusiasm for chivalrous ideals and the noble simplicity 
and fine rhythm of his prose have combined to give his voork a 
unique place in English literature. In it the age of chivalry is 
summed up and closed. It is not without reason that the date 
of its publication by Caxton, 1485, should be conventionally ac- 
cepted as the end of the Middle Ages in England. Romance had 
passed under the printing press, and a new age had begun. 

108 



THE HOLY GRAIL 

BEING BOOKS XIII, XIV, XV, XVI and XVII 

OF THE BOOK OF KING ARTHUR 

AND OF HIS NOBLE KNIGHTS 

OF THE ROUND TABLE 

THE THIRTEENTH BOOK. 
CHAPTER I 

HOW AT THE VIGIL OF THE FEAST OF PENTECOST ENTERED 

INTO THE HALL BEFORE KING ARTHUR A DAMOSEL, 

AND DESIRED SIR LAUNCELOT FOR TO COME 

AND DUB A KNIGHT, AND HOW HE 

WENT WITH HER 

A T the vigil of Pentecost, when all the fellowship of 
l\ the Round Table were come unto Camelot and there 
-* — *- heard their service, and the tables were set ready to 
the meat, right so entered into the hall a full fair gentle- 
woman on horseback, that had ridden full fast, for her horse 
was all besweated. Then she there alit, and came before the 
king and saluted him ; and he said : Damosel, God thee bless. 

109 



110 SIR THOMAS MALORY 

Sir, said she, for God's sake say me where Sir Launcelot is. 
Yonder ye may see him, said the king. Then she went unto 
Launcelot and said: Sir Launcelot, I salute you on King 
Pelles' behalf, and I require you come on with me hereby into 
a forest. Then Sir Launcelot asked her with whom she 
dwelled. I dwell, said she, with King Pelles. What will ye 
with me? said Launcelot. Ye shall know, said she, when ye 
come thither. Well, said he, I will gladly go with you. So 
Sir Launcelot bad his squire saddle his horse and bring his 
arms; and in all haste he did his commandment. Then 
came the queen unto Launcelot, and said: Will ye leave us 
at this high feast? Madam, said the gentlewoman, wit ye 
well he shall be with you tomorn by dinner time. If I wist, 
said the queen, that he should not be with us here tomorn 
he should not go with you by my good will. Right so 
departed Sir Launcelot with the gentlewoman, and rode until 
that he came into a forest and into a great valley, where they 
saw an abbey of nuns ; and there was a squire ready and 
opened the gates, and so they entered and descended off 
their horses; and there came a fair fellowship about Sir 
Launcelot, and welcomed him, and were passing glad of his 
coming. And then they led him unto the Abbess's chamber 
and unarmed him; and right so he was ware upon a bed 
lying two of his cousins, Sir Bors and Sir Lionel, and then 
he waked them; and when they saw him they made great 
joy. Sir, said Sir Bors unto Sir Launcelot, what adventure 
hath brought you hither, for we weened tomorn to have found 
you at Camelot? As God me help, said Sir Launcelot, a 
gentlewoman brought me hither, but I know not the cause. 
In the meanwhile that they thus stood talking together, 
therein came twelve nuns that brought with them Galahad, 
the which was passing fair and well made, that unnethe in 
the world men might not find his match : and all those 
ladies wept. Sir, said they all, we bring you here this child 
the which we have nourished, and we pray you to make him 
a knight, for of a more worthier man's hand may he not 
receive the order of knighthood. Sir Launcelot beheld the 
young squire and saw him seemly and demure as a dove, 
with all manner of good features, that he weened of his age 
never to have seen so fair a man of form. Then said Sir 



THE HOLY GRAIL 111 

Launcelot: Cometh this desire of himself? He and all they 
said yea. Then shall he, said Sir Launcelot, receive the high 
order of knighthood as tomorn at the reverence of the high 
feast. That night Sir Launcelot had passing good cheer; 
and on the morn at the hour of prime, at Galahad's desire, 
he made him knight and said: God make him a good man, 
for of beauty faileth you not as any that liveth. 



CHAPTER II 

HOW THE LETTERS WERE FOUND WRITTEN IN THE SIEGE 

PERILOUS, AND OF THE MARVELLOUS ADVENTURE 

OF THE SWORD IN A STONE 

Now fair sir, said Sir Launcelot, will ye come with me 
unto the court of King Arthur? Nay, said he, I will not go 
with you as at this time. Then he departed from them and 
took his two cousins with him, and so they came unto Came- 
lot by the hour of underne on Whitsunday. By that time the 
king and the queen were gone to the minster to hear their 
service. Then the king and the queen were passing glad of 
Sir Bors and Sir Lionel, and so was all the fellowship. So 
when the king and all the knights were come from service, 
the barons espied in the sieges of the Round Table all about, 
written with golden letters : Here ought to sit he, and he 
ought to sit here. And thus they went so long till that they 
came to the Siege Perilous, where they found letters newly 
written of gold which said: Four hundred winters and four 
and fifty accomplished after the passion of our Lord Jesu 
Christ ought this siege to be fulfilled. Then all they said: 
This is a marvellous thing and an adventurous. In the name 
of God, said Sir Launcelot; and then accounted the term of 
the writing from the birth of our Lord unto that day. It 
seemeth me, said Sir Launcelot, this siege ought to be ful- 
filled this same day, for this is the feast of Pentecost after 
the four hundred and four and fifty year; and if it would 
please all parties, I would none of these letters were seen this 
day, till he be come that ought to achieve this adventure. 
Then made they to ordain a cloth of silk, for to cover these 



112 SIR THOMAS MALORY 

letters in the Siege Perilous. Then the king bad haste unto 
dinner. Sir, said Sir Kay the Steward, if ye go now to your 
meat ye shall break your old custom of your court, for ye 
have not used on this day to sit at your meat or that ye have 
seen some adventure. Ye say sooth, said the king, but I had 
so great joy of Sir Launcelot and of his cousins, which be 
come to the court whole and sound, so that I bethought me 
not of mine old custom. So, as they stood speaking, in came 
a squire and said unto the king : Sir, I bring unto you mar- 
vellous tidings. What be they? said the king. Sir, there is 
here beneath at the river a great stone which I saw fleet 
above the water, and therein I saw sticking a sword. The 
king said: I will see that marvel. So all the knights went 
with him, and when they came to the river they found there 
a stone fleeting, as it were of red marble, and therein stuck 
a fair rich sword, and in the pommel thereof were precious 
stones wrought with subtil letters of gold. Then the barons 
read the letters which said in this wise: Never shall man 
take me hence, but only he by whose side I ought to hang, 
and he shall be the best knight of the world. When the 
king had seen the letters, he said unto Sir Launcelot: Fair 
sir, this sword ought to be yours, for I am sure ye be the 
best knight of the world. Then Sir Launcelot answered 
full soberly : Certes, sir, it is not my sword ; also, Sir, wit ye 
well I have no hardiness to set my hand to it, for it longed 
not to hang by my side. Also, who that assayeth to take 
the sword and faileth of it, he shall receive a wound by that 
sword that he shall not be whole long after. And I will that 
ye wit that this same day shall the adventures of the San- 
greal, that is called the Holy Vessel, begin. 



CHAPTER III 

HOW SIR GAWAINE ESSAYED TO DRAW OUT THE SWORD, 
AND HOW AN OLD MAN BROUGHT IN GALAHAD 

Now, fair nephew, said the king unto Sir Gawaine, essay 
ye, for my love. Sir, he said, save your good grace I shall 
not do that. Sir, said the king, essay to take the sword and 



THE HOLY GRAIL 113 

at my commandment. Sir, said Gawaine, your command- 
ment I will obey. And therewith he took up the sword by 
the handles, but he might not stir it. I thank you, said the 
king to Sir Gawaine. My lord Sir Gawaine, said Sir Launce- 
lot, now wit ye well this sword shall touch you so sore that ye 
shall will ye had never set your hand thereto for the best 
castle of this realm. Sir, he said, I might not withsay mine 
uncle's will and commandment. But when the king heard 
this he repented it much, and said unto Sir Percivale that he 
should essay, for his love. And he said : Gladly, for to bear 
Sir Gawaine fellowship. And therewith he set his hand on 
the sword and drew it strongly, but he might not move 
it. Then were there more that durst be so hardy, to 
set their hands thereto. Now may ye go to your dinner, said 
Sir Kay unto the King, for a marvellous adventure have ye 
seen. So the king and all went unto the court, and every knight 
knew his own place, and set him therein, and young men that 
were knights served them. So when they were served, and all 
sieges fulfilled save only the Siege Perilous, anon there befell 
a marvellous adventure, that all the doors and windows of 
the palace shut by themself. Not for then the hall was not 
greatly darked; and therewith they abashed both one and 
other. Then King Arthur spake first and said: By God, 
fair fellows and lords, we have seen this day marvels, but or 
night I suppose we shall see greater marvels. In the mean- 
while came in a good old man, and an ancient, clothed all 
in white, and there was no knight knew from whence he 
came. And with him he brought a young knight, both on 
foot, in red arms, without sword or shield, save a scabbard 
hanging by his side. And these words he said: Peace be 
with you, fair lords. Then the old man said unto Arthur: 
Sir, I bring here a young knight, the which is of king's 
lineage, and of the kindred of Joseph of Aramathie, whereby 
the marvels of this court, and of strange realms, shall be 
fully accomplished. 



114 SIR THOMAS MALORY 



CHAPTER IV 

HOW THE OLD MAN BROUGHT GALAHAD TO THE 

SIEGE PERILOUS AND SET HIM THEREIN, AND 

HOW ALL THE KNIGHTS MARVELLED 

The king was right glad of his words, and said unto the 
good man: Sir, ye be right welcome, and the young knight 
with you. Then the old man made the young man to unarm 
him, and he was in a coat of red sendel, and bare a mantle 
upon his shoulder that was furred with ermine, and put that 
upon him. And the old knight said unto the young knight: 
Sir, follow me. And anon he led him unto the Siege Peril- 
ous, where beside sat Sir Launcelot; and the good man lift 
up the cloth, and found there letters that said thus: This is 
the siege of Galahad, the haut prince. Sir, said the old 
knight, wit ye well that place is yours. And then he set him 
down surely in that siege. And then he said to the old 
man: Sir, ye may now go your way, for well have ye done 
that ye were commanded to do; and recommend me unto 
my grandsire, King Pelles, and unto my lord Petchere, and 
say them on my behalf, I shall come and see them as soon 
as ever I may. So the good man departed; and there met 
him twenty noble squires, and so took their horses and went 
their way. Then all the knights of the Table Round mar- 
velled greatly of Sir Galahad, that he durst sit there in 
that Siege Perilous, and was so tender of age ; and wist not 
from whence he came but all only by God ; and said : This 
is he by whom the Sangreal shall be achieved, for there sat 
never none but he, but he were mischieved. Then Sir 
Launcelot beheld his son and had great joy of him. Then 
Bors told his fellows : Upon pain of my life this young 
knight shall come unto great worship. This noise was great 
in all the court, so that it came to the queen. Then she had 
marvel what knight it might be that durst adventure him to 
sit in the Siege Perilous. Many said unto the queen he 
resembled much unto Sir Launcelot. I may well suppose, 
said the queen, that Sir Launcelot begat him on King Pelles' 
daughter, by the which he was made to lie by, by enchant- 



THE HOLY GRAIL 115 

ment, and his name is Galahad. I would fain see him, said 
the queen, for he must needs be a noble man, for so is his 
father that him begat, I report me unto all the Table Round. 
So when the meat was done that the king and all were risen, 
the king yede unto the Siege Perilous and lift up the cloth, 
and found there the name of Galahad; and then he shewed 
it unto Sir Gawaine, and said: Fair nephew, now have we 
among us Sir Galahad, the good knight that shall worship us 
all; and upon pain of my life he shall achieve the Sangreal, 
right as Sir Launcelot had done us to understand. Then 
came King Arthur unto Galahad and said: Sir, ye be wel- 
come, for ye shall move many good knights to the quest of 
the Sangreal, and ye shall achieve that never knights might 
bring to an end. Then the king took him by the hand, and 
went down from the palace to shew Galahad the adventures 
of the stone. 

CHAPTER V 

HOW KING ARTHUR SHEWED THE STONE HOVING 

ON THE WATER TO GALAHAD, AND HOW 

HE DREW OUT THE SWORD 

The queen heard thereof, and came after with many 
ladies, and shewed them the stone where it hoved on the 
water. Sir, said the king unto Sir Galahad, here is a great 
marvel as ever I saw, and right good knights have essayed 
and failed. Sir, said Galahad, that is no marvel, for this 
adventure is not theirs but mine; and for the surety of this 
sword I brought none with me, for here by my side hangeth 
the scabbard. And anon he laid his hand on the sword, and 
lightly drew it out of the stone, and put it in the sheath, and 
said unto the king: Now it goeth better than it did afore- 
hand. Sir, said the king, a shield God shall send you. 
Now have I that sword that sometime was the good knight's, 
Balin le Savage, and he was a passing good man of his 
hands; and with this sword he slew his brother Balan, and 
that was great pity, for he was a good knight, and either slew 
other through a dolorous stroke that Balin gave unto my 
grandfather King Pelles, the which is not yet whole, nor not 



116 SIR THOMAS MALORY 

shall be till I heal him. Therewith the king and all espied 
where came riding down the river a lady on a white palfrey 
toward them. Then she saluted the king and the queen, 
and asked if that Sir Launcelot was there. And then he 
answered himself: I am here, fair lady. Then she said all 
with weeping: How your great doing is changed sith this 
day in the morn. Damosel, why say you so? said Launce- 
lot. I say you sooth, said the damosel, for ye were this day 
the best knight of the world, but who should say so now, he 
should be a liar, for there is now one better than ye, and 
well it is proved by the adventures of the sword whereto ye 
durst not set to your hand; and that is the change and 
leaving of your name. Wherefore I make unto you a 
remembrance, that ye shall not ween from henceforth that 
ye be the best knight of the world. As touching unto that, 
said Launcelotj I know well I was never the best. Yes, 
said the damosel, that were ye, and are yet, of any sinful 
man of the world. And, Sir king, Nacien, the hermit, 
sendeth thee word, that thee shall befall the greatest worship 
that ever befell king in Britain; and I say you wherefore, 
for this day the Sangreal appeared in thy house and fed thee 
and all thy fellowship of the Round Table. So she departed 
and went that same way that she came. 



CHAPTER VI 

HOW KING ARTHUR HAD ALL THE KNIGHTS TOGETHER 

FOR TO JOUST IN THE MEADOW BESIDE 

CAMELOT OR THEY DEPARTED 

Now, said the king, I am sure at this quest of the Sangreal 
shall all ye of the Table Round depart, and never shall I see 
you again whole together; therefore I will see you all whole 
together in the meadow of Camelot to joust and to tourney, 
that after your death men may speak of it that such good 
knights were wholly together such a day. As unto that 
counsel and at the king's request they accorded all, and took 
on their harness that longed unto jousting. But all this 
moving of the king was for this intent, for to see Galahad 



THE HOLY GRAIL 117 

proved; for the king deemed he should not lightly come 
again unto the court after his departing. So were they 
assembled in the meadow both more and less. Then Sir 
Galahad, by the prayer of the king and the queen, did upon 
him a noble jesseraunce, and also he did on his helm, but 
shield would he take none for no prayer of the king. And 
then Sir Gawaine and other knights prayed him to take a 
spear. Right so he did; and the queen was in a tower with 
all her ladies, for to behold that tournament. Then Sir 
Galahad dressed him in middes of the meadow, and began 
to break spears marvellously, that all men had wonder of 
him; for he there surmounted all other knights, for within a 
while he had defouled many good knights of the Table Round 
save twain, that was Sir Launcelot and Sir Percivale. 



CHAPTER VII 

HOW THE QUEEN DESIRED TO SEE GALAHAD; AND HOW 

AFTER, ALL THE KNIGHTS WERE REPLENISHED 

WITH THE HOLY SANGREAL, AND HOW THEY 

AVOWED THE ENQUEST OF THE SAME 

Then the king, at the queen's request, made him to 
alight and to unlace his helm, that the queen might see him 
in the visage. When she beheld him she said: Soothly I 
dare well say that Sir Launcelot begat him, for never two 
men resembled more in likeness, therefore it is no marvel 
though he be of great prowess. So a lady that stood by the 
queen said: Madam, for God's sake ought he of right to be 
so good a knight? Yea, forsooth, said the queen, for he is 
of all parties come of the best knights of the world and of 
the highest lineage; for Sir Launcelot is come but of the 
eighth degree from our Lord Jesu Christ, and Sir Galahad is 
of the ninth degree from our Lord Jesu Christ, therefore I 
dare say they be the greatest gentlemen of the world. And 
then the king and all estates went home unto Camelot, and 
so went to evensong to the great minster, and so after upon 
that to supper, and every knight sat in his own place as 
they were toforehand. Then anon they heard cracking and 



118 SIR THOMAS MALORY 

crying of thunder, that them thought the place should all 
to drive. In the midst of this blast entered a sunbeam 
more clearer by seven times than ever they saw day, and all 
they were alighted of the grace of the Holy Ghost. Then 
began every knight to behold other, and either saw other, by 
their seeming, fairer than ever they saw afore. Not for then 
there was no knight might speak one word a great while, and 
so they looked every man on other as they had been dumb. 
Then there entered into the hall the Holy Greal covered 
with white samite, but there was none might see it, nor who 
bare it. And there was all the hall fulfilled with good 
odours, and every knight had such meats and drinks as he 
best loved in this world. And when the Holy Greal had 
been borne through the hall, then the Holy Vessel departed 
suddenly, that they wist not where it became: then had 
they all breath to speak. And then the king yielded thank- 
ings to God, of His good grace that he had sent them. 
Certes, said the king, we ought to thank our Lord Jesu 
greatly for that he hath shewed us this day, at the reverence 
of this high feast of Pentecost. Now, said Sir Gawaine, we 
have been served this day of what meats and drinks we 
thought on; but one thing beguiled us, we might not see 
the holy Grail, it was so preciously covered. Wherefore I 
will make here avow, that tomorn, without longer abiding, I 
shall labour in the quest of the Sangreal, that I shall hold 
me out a twelvemonth and a day, or more if need be, and 
never shall I return again unto the court till I have seen it 
more openly than it hath been seen here; and if I may not 
speed I shall return again as he that may not be against the 
will of our Lord Jesu Christ. When they of the Table 
Round heard Sir Gawaine say so, they arose up the most 
part and made such avows as Sir Gawaine had made. Anon 
as King Arthur heard this he was greatly displeased, for he 
wist well they might not again say their avows. Alas, said 
King Arthur unto Sir Gawaine, ye have nigh slain me with 
the avow and promise that ye have made; for through you 
ye have bereft me the fairest fellowship and the truest of 
knighthood that ever were seen together in any realm of the 
world; for when they depart from hence I am sure they all 
shall never meet more in this world, for they shall die many 



THE HOLY GRAIL 119 

in the quest. And so it forthinketh me a little, for I have 
loved them as well as my life, wherefore it shall grieve me 
right sore, the departition of this fellowship : for I have 
had an old custom to have them in my fellowship. 



CHAPTER VIII 

HOW GREAT SORROW WAS MADE OF THE KING AND THE 

QUEEN AND LADIES FOR THE DEPARTING OF THE 

KNIGHTS, AND HOW THEY DEPARTED 

And therewith the tears filled in his eyes. And then he 
said: Gawaine, Gawaine, ye have set me in great sorrow, 
for I have great doubt that my true fellowship shall never 
meet here more again. Ah, said Sir Launcelot, comfort 
yourself; for it shall be unto us a great honour and much 
more than if we died in any other places, for of death we be 
siccar. Ah, Launcelot, said the king, the great love that I 
have had unto you all the days of my life maketh me to say 
such doleful words; for never Christian king had never so 
many worthy men at his table as I have had this day at the 
Round Table, and that is my great sorrow. When the queen, 
ladies, and gentlewomen, wist these tidings, they had such 
sorrow and heaviness that there might no tongue tell it, 
for those knights had held them in honour and charity. But 
among all other Queen Guenever made great sorrow. I 
marvel, said she, my lord would suffer them to depart from 
him. Thus was all the court troubled for the love of the 
departition of those knights. And many of those ladies 
that loved knights would have gone with their lovers ; and 
so had they done, had not an old knight come among them 
in religious clothing; and then he spake all on high and 
said : Fair lords, which have sworn in the quest of the 
Sangreal, thus sendeth you Nacien, the hermit, word, that 
none in this quest lead lady nor gentlewoman with him, for 
it is not to do in so high a service as they labour in; for I 
warn you plain, he that is not clean of his sins he shall not 
see the mysteries of our Lord Jesu Christ. And for this 
cause they left these ladies and gentlewomen. After this 

(h) hc xxxv 



120 SIR THOMAS MALORY 

the queen came unto Galahad and asked him of whence he 
was, and of what country. He told her of whence he was. 
And son unto Launcelot, she said he was. As to that, he 
said neither yea or nay. So God me help, said the queen, 
of your father ye need not to shame you, for he is the 
goodliest knight, and of the best men of the world come, 
and of the strain of all parties, of kings. Wherefore ye 
ought of right to be, of your deeds, a passing good man; 
and certainly, she said, ye resemble him much. Then Sir 
Galahad was a little ashamed and said: Madam, sith ye 
know in certain, wherefore do ye ask it me? for he that 
is my father shall be known openly and all betimes. And 
then they went to rest them. And in the honour of the 
highness of Galahad he was led into King Arthur's chamber, 
and there rested in his own bed. And as soon as it was 
day the king arose, for he had no rest of all that night for 
sorrow. Then he went unto Gawaine and to Sir Launcelot 
that were arisen for to hear mass. And then the king again 
said: Ah Gawaine, Gawaine, ye have betrayed me; for 
never shall my court be amended by you, but ye will never 
be sorry for me as I am for you. And therewith the tears 
began to run down by his visage. And therewith the king 
said: Ah, knight Sir Launcelot, I require thee thou counsel 
me, for I would that this quest were undone an it might be. 
Sir, said Sir Launcelot, ye saw yesterday so many worthy 
knights that then were sworn that they may not leave it in 
no manner of wise. That wot I well, said the king, but it 
shall so heavy me at their departing that I wot well there 
shall no manner of joy remedy me. And then the king and 
the queen went unto the minister. So anon Launcelot and 
Gawaine commanded their men to bring their arms. And 
when they all were armed save their shields and their helms, 
then they came to their fellowship, which were all ready in 
the same wise, for to go to the minster to hear their service. 
Then after the service was done the king would wit how 
many had undertaken the quest of the Holy Grail ; and to 
account them he prayed them all. Then found they by tale 
an hundred and fifty, and all were knights of the Round 
Table. And then they put on their helms and departed, 
and recommended them all wholly unto the queen: and 



THE HOLY GRAIL 121 

there was weeping and great sorrow. Then the queen de- 
parted into her chamber so that no man should apperceive 
her great sorrows. When Sir Launcelot missed the queen 
he went into her chamber, and when she saw him she cried 
aloud: O Sir Launcelot, ye have betrayed me and put me 
to death, for to leave thus my lord. Ah, madam, said Sir 
Launcelot, I pray you be not displeased, for I shall come as 
soon as I may with my worship. Alas, said she, that ever I 
saw you; but he that suffered death upon the cross for all 
mankind be to you good conduct and safety, and all the 
whole fellowship. Right so departed Sir Launcelot, and 
found his fellowship that abode his coming. And so they 
mounted upon their horses and rode through the streets of 
Camelot; and there was weeping of the rich and poor, and 
the king turned away and might not speak for weeping. So 
within a while they came to a city, and a castle that hight 
Vagon. There they entered into the castle, and the lord of 
that castle was an old man that hight Vagon, and he was a 
good man of his living, and set open the gates, and made 
them all the good cheer that he might. And so on the 
morrow they were all accorded that they should depart 
every each from other; and then they departed on the mor- 
row with weeping and mourning cheer, and every knight 
took the way that him best liked. 



CHAPTER IX 

HOW GALAHAD GAT HIM A SHIELD, AND HOW THEY SPED 
THAT PRESUMED TO TAKE DOWN THE SAID SHIELD 

Now rideth Sir Galahad yet without shield, and so he 
rode four days without any adventure. And at the fourth 
day after evensong he came to a White Abbey, and there he 
was received with great reverence, and led to a chamber, 
and there he was unarmed; and then was he ware of two 
knights of the Round Table, one was King Bagdemagus, 
and that other was Sir Uwaine. And when they saw him 
they went unto him and made of him great solace, and so 
they went to supper. Sirs, said Sir Galahad, what adventure 



122 SIR THOMAS MALORY 

brought you hither? Sir, said they, it is told us that within 
this place is a shield that no man may bear about his neck 
but if that he be mischieved or dead within three days, or 
else maimed for ever. i\h sir, said King Bagdemagus, I 
shall it bear to-morrow for to essay this strange adventure. 
In the name of God, said Sir Galahad. Sir, said Bagde- 
magus, an I may not achieve the adventure of this shield ye 
shall take it upon you, for I am sure ye shall not fail. Sir, 
said Galahad, I agree right well thereto, for I have no shield. 
So on the morn they arose and heard mass. Then King 
Bagdemagus asked where the adventurous shield was. Anon 
a monk led him behind an altar where the shield hung 
as white as any snow, but in the middes was a red cross. 
Sir, said the monk, this shield ought not to be hanged 
about no knight's neck but he be the worthiest knight of 
the world, and therefore I counsel you knights to be well 
advised. Well, said King Bagdemagus, I wot well that I 
am not the best knight of the world, but yet shall I essay 
to bear it. And so he bare it out of the monastery; and 
then he said unto Sir Galahad: If it will please you I pray 
you abide here still, till ye know how I shall speed. I 
shall abide you here, said Galahad. Then King Bagdemagus 
took with him a squire, the which should bring tidings unto 
Sir Galahad how he sped. Then when they had ridden a two 
mile and came in a fair valley afore an hermitage, then they 
saw a goodly knight come from that part in white armour, 
horse and all ; and he came as fast as his horse might run, 
with his spear in the rest, and King Bagdemagus dressed his 
spear against him and brake it upon the white knight. But 
the other struck him so hard that he brake the mails, and 
thrust him through the right shoulder, for the shield covered 
him not as at that time ; and so he bare him from his horse. 
And therewith he alighted and took the white shield from 
him, saying: Knight, thou hast done thyself great folly, for 
this shield ought not to be borne but by him that shall have 
no peer that liveth. And then he came to King Bagdemagus' 
squire and said: Bear this shield unto the good knight Sir 
Galahad, that thou left in the abbey, and greet him well 
from me. Sir, said the squire, what is your name? Take 
thou no heed of my name, said the knight, for it is not for 



THE HOLY GRAIL 123 

thee to know nor for none earthly man. Now, fair sir, said 
the squire, at the reverence of Jesu Christ, tell me for 
what cause this shield may not be borne but if the 
bearer thereof be mischieved. Now sith thou hast con- 
jured me so, said the knight, this shield behoveth unto no 
man but unto Galahad. And the squire went unto Bagde- 
magus and asked whether he were sore wounded or not. 
Yea, forsooth, said he, I shall escape hard from the 
death. Then he fetched his horse, and brought him with 
great pain unto an abbey. Then was he taken down 
softly and unarmed, and laid in a bed, and there was looked 
to his wounds. And as the book telleth, he lay there long, 
and escaped hard with the life. 



CHAPTER X 

HOW GALAHAD DEPARTED WITH THE SHIELD, AND HOW 

KING EVELAKE HAD RECEIVED THE SHIELD OF 

JOSEPH OF ARAMATHIE 

Sir Galahad, said the squire, that knight that wounded 
Bagdemagus sendeth you greeting, and bad that ye should 
bear this shield, wherethrough great adventures should befall. 
Now blessed be God and fortune, said Galahad. And then 
he asked his arms, and mounted upon his horse, and hung 
the white shield about his neck, and commended them unto 
God. And Sir Uwaine said he would bear him fellowship 
if it pleased him. Sir, said Galahad, that may ye not, for 
I must go alone, save this squire shall bear me fellowship : 
and so departed Uwaine. Then within a while came Gala- 
had there as the white knight abode him by the hermitage, 
and every each saluted other courteously. Sir, said Gala- 
had, by this shield be many marvels fallen? Sir, said the 
knight, it befell after the passion of our Lord Jesu Christ 
thirty-two year, that Joseph of Aramathie, the gentle knight, 
the which took down our Lord off the holy Cross, at that 
time he departed from Jerusalem with a great party of his 
kindred with him. And so he laboured till that they came 
to a city that hight Sarras. And at that same hour that 



124 SIR THOMAS MALORY 

Joseph came to Sarras there was a king that hight Evelake, 
that had great war against the Saracens, and in especial 
against one Saracen, the which was King Evelake's cousin, a 
rich king and a mighty, which marched nigh this land, and 
his name was called Tolleme la Feintes. So on a day these 
two met to do battle. Then Joseph, the son of Joseph of 
Aramathie, went to King Evelake and told him he should 
be discomfit and slain, but if he left his belief of the old law 
and believed upon the new law. And then there he shewed 
him the right belief of the Holy Trinity, to the which he 
agreed unto with all his heart; and there this shield was 
made for King Evelake, in the name of Him that died upon 
the Cross. And then through his good belief he had the 
better of King Tolleme. For when Evelake was in the 
battle there was a cloth set afore the shield, and when he 
was in the greatest peril he let put away the cloth, and then 
his enemies saw a figure of a man on the Cross, where- 
through they all were discomfit. And so it befell that a man 
of King Evelake's was smitten his hand off, and bare that 
hand in his other hand; and Joseph called that man unto 
him and bade him go with good devotion touch the Cross. 
And as soon as that man had touched the Cross with his 
hand it was as whole as ever it was tofore. Then soon 
after there fell a great marvel, that the cross of the shield at 
one time vanished away that no man wist where it became. 
And then King Evelake was baptised, and for the most part 
all the people of that city. So, soon after Joseph would 
depart, and King Evelake would go with him whether he 
would or nold. And so by fortune they came into this 
land, that at that time was called Great Britain; and there 
they found a great felon paynim, that put Joseph into prison. 
And so by fortune tidings came unto a worthy man that 
hight Mondrames, and he assembled all his people for the 
great renown he had heard of Joseph; and so he came into 
the land of Great Britain and disinherited this felon paynim 
and consumed him; and therewith delivered Joseph out of 
prison. And after that all the people were turned to the 
Christian faith. 



THE HOLY GRAIL 125 



CHAPTER XI 



HOW JOSEPH MADE A CROSS ON THE WHITE SHIELD WITH 

HIS BLOOD, AND HOW GALAHAD WAS BY A MONK 

BROUGHT TO A TOMB 

Not long after that Joseph was laid in his deadly bed. 
And when King Evelake'saw that he made much sorrow, 
and said: For thy love I have left my country, and sith ye 
shall depart out of this world, leave me some token of yours 
that I may think on you. Joseph said: That will I do full 
gladly; now bring me your shield that I took you when ye 
went into battle against King Tolleme. Then Joseph bled 
sore at the nose, so that he might not by no mean be 
staunched. And there upon that shield he made a cross of 
his own blood. Now may ye see a remembrance that I love 
you, for ye shall never see this shield but ye shall think on 
me, and it shall be always as fresh as it is now. And never 
shall man bear this shield about his neck but he shall repent 
it, unto the time that Galahad, the good knight, bare it ; and 
the last of my lineage shall have it about his neck, that shall 
do many marvellous deeds. Now, said King Evelake, where 
shall I put this shield, that this worthy knight may have it? 
Ye shall leave it there as Nacien, the hermit, shall be put 
after his death; for thither shall that good knight come the 
fifteenth day after that he shall receive the order of knight- 
hood: and so that day that they set is this time that he 
have his shield, and in the same abbey lieth Nacien, the 
hermit. And then the white knight vanished away. Anon 
as the squire had heard these words, he alit off his hackney 
and kneeled down at Galahad's feet, and prayed him that he 
might go with him till he had made him knight. If I would 
not refuse you? Then will ye make me a knight? said 
the squire, and that order, by the grace of God, shall be 
well set in me. So Sir Galahad granted him, and turned 
again unto the abbey where they came from; and there men 
made great joy of Sir Galahad. And anon as he was alit 
there was a monk brought him unto a tomb in a churchyard, 
where there was such a noise that who that heard it should 



126 SIR THOMAS MALORY 

verily nigh be mad or lose his strength : and Sir, they said, 
we deem it is a fiend. 



CHAPTER XII 

OF THE MARVEL THAT SIR GALAHAD SAW AND HEARD 

IN THE TOMB, AND HOW HE MADE 

MELIAS KNIGHT 

Now lead me thither, said Galahad. And so they did, 
all armed save his helm. Now, said the good man, go to 
the tomb and lift it up. So he did, and heard a great noise; 
and piteously it said, that all men might hear it : Sir Galahad, 
the servant of Jesu Christ, come thou not nigh me, for thou 
shalt make me go again there where I have been so long. 
But Galahad was nothing afraid, but lifted up the stone ; 
and there came out so foul a smoke, and after he saw the 
foulest figure leap thereout that ever he saw in the likeness 
of a man ; and then he blessed him and wist well it was a 
fiend. Then heard he a voice say: Galahad, I see there 
environ about thee so many angels that my power may not 
dare thee. Right so Sir Galahad saw a body all armed lie 
in that tomb, and beside him a sword. Now, fair brother, 
said Galahad, let us remove this body, for it is not worthy 
to lie in this churchyard, for he was a false Christian man. 
And therewith they all departed and went to the abbey. 
And anon as he was unarmed a good man came and set 
him down by him and said: Sir, I shall tell you what 
betokeneth all that ye saw in the tomb; for that covered 
body betokeneth the duresse of the world, and the great sin 
that our Lord found in the world. For there was such 
wretchedness that the father loved not the son, nor the son 
loved not the father; and that was one of the causes that 
our Lord took flesh and blood of a clene maiden, for our sins 
were so great at that time that wellnigh all was wickedness. 
Truly, said Galahad, I believe you right well. So Sir 
Galahad rested him there that night; and upon the morn 
he made the squire knight, and asked him his name, and of 
what kindred he was come. Sir, said he, men calleth me 
Melias de Lile, and I am the son of the king of Denmark. 



THE HOLY GRAIL 127 

Now, fair sir, said Galahad, sith that ye be come of kings 
and queens, now look that knighthood be well set in you, 
for ye ought to be a mirror unto all chivalry. Sir, said Sir 
Melias, ye say sooth. But, sir, sithen ye have made me a 
knight ye must of right grant me my first desire that is 
reasonable. Ye say sooth, said Galahad. Melias said: 
Then that ye will suffer me to ride with you in this quest 
of the Sangreal, till that some adventure depart us. I grant 
you, sir. Then men brought Sir Melias his armour and his 
spear and his horse, and so Sir Galahad and he rode forth 
all that week or they found any adventure. And then upon 
a Monday in the morning, as they were departed from an 
abbey, they came to a cross which departed two ways, and 
in that cross were letters written that said thus: Now, ye 
knights errant, the which goeth to seek knights adventurous, 
see here two ways ; that one way defendeth thee that thou ne 
go that way, for he shall not go out of the way again but 
if he be a good man and a worthy knight; and if thou go 
on the left hand, thou shalt not lightly there win prowess, 
for thou shalt in this way be soon essayed. Sir, said Melias 
to Galahad, if it like you to suffer me to take the way on the 
left hand, tell me, for there I shall well prove my strength. 
It were better, said Galahad, ye rode not that way, for I 
deem I should better escape in that way than ye. Nay, my 
lord, I pray you let me have that adventure. Take it in 
God's name, said Galahad. 

CHAPTER XIII 

OF THE ADVENTURE THAT MELIAS HAD, AND HOW 

GALAHAD REVENGED HIM, AND HOW MELIAS 

WAS CARRIED INTO AN ABBEY 

And then rode Melias into an old forest, and therein he 
rode two days and more. And then he came into a fair 
meadow, and there was a fair lodge of boughs. And then 
he espied in that lodge a chair, wherein was a crown of gold, 
subtily wrought. Also there were cloths covered upon the 
earth, and many delicious meats set thereon. Sir Melias 
beheld this adventure, and thought it marvellous, but he had 
no hunger, but of the crown of gold he took much keep; 



128 SIR THOMAS MALORY 

and therewith he stooped down and took it up, and rode his 
way with it. And anon he saw a knight came riding after 
him that said: Knight, set down that crown which is not 
yours, and therefore defend you. Then Sir Melias blessed 
him and said: Fair lord of heaven, help and save thy new- 
made knight. And then they let their horses run as fast as 
they might, so that the other knight smote Sir Melias 
through hauberk and through the left side, that he fell to 
the earth nigh dead. And then he took the crown and went 
his way; and Sir Melias lay still and had no power to stir. 
In the meanwhile by fortune there came Sir Galahad and 
found him there in peril of death. And then he said: Ah, 
Melias, who hath wounded you ? therefore it had been better 
to have ridden the other way. And when Sir Melias heard 
him speak : Sir, he said, for God's love let me not die in 
this forest, but bear me unto the abbey here beside, that I 
may be confessed and have my rights. It shall be done, 
said Galahad, but where is he that hath wounded you? 
With that Sir Galahad heard in the leaves cry on high: 
Knight, keep thee from me. Ah sir, said Melias, beware, 
for that is he that hath slain me. Sir Galahad answered: 
Sir knight, come on your peril. Then either dressed to 
other, and came together as fast as their horses might run, 
and Galahad smote him so that his spear went through his 
shoulder, and smote him down off his horse, and in the 
falling Galahad's spear brake. With that came out another 
knight out of the leaves, and brake a spear upon Galahad 
or ever he might turn him. Then Galahad drew out his 
sword and smote off the left arm of him, so that it fell to 
the earth. And then he fled, and Sir Galahad pursued fast 
after him. And then he turned again unto Sir Melias, 
and there he alit and dressed him softly on his horse tofore 
him, for the truncheon of his spear was in his body ; and 
Sir Galahad start up behind him, and held him in his arms, 
and so brought him to the abbey, and there unarmed him 
and brought him to his chamber. And then he asked his 
Saviour. And when he had received Him he said unto Sir 
Galahad: Sir, let death come when it pleaseth him. And 
therewith he drew out the truncheon of the spear out of his 
body : and then he swooned. Then came there an old monk 



THE HOLY GRAIL 129 

which sometime had been a knight, and beheld Sir Melias. 
And anon he ransacked him; and then he said unto Sir 
Galahad: I shall heal him of his wound, by the grace of 
God, within the term of seven weeks. Then was Sir Galahad 
glad, and unarmed him, and said he would abide there three 
days. And then he asked Sir Melias how it stood with him. 
Then he said he was turned unto helping, God be thanked. 



CHAPTER XIV 

HOW SIR GALAHAD DEPARTED, AND HOW HE WAS 

COMMANDED TO GO TO THE CASTLE OF 

MAIDENS TO DESTROY THE 

WICKED CUSTOM 

Now will I depart, said Galahad, for I have much on hand, 
for many good knights be full busy about it, and this knight 
and I were in the same quest of the Sangreal. Sir, said the 
good man, for his sin he was thus wounded; and I marvel, 
said the good man, how ye durst take upon you so rich a 
thing as the high order of knighthood without clene con- 
fession, and that was the cause ye were bitterly wounded. 
For the way on the right hand betokeneth the highway of 
our Lord Jesu Christ, and the way of a good true good liver. 
And the other way betokeneth the way of sinners and of 
misbelievers. And when the devil saw your pride and pre- 
sumption, for to take you in the quest of the Sangreal, that 
made you to be overthrown, for it may not be achieved but 
by virtuous living. Also, the writing on the cross was a 
signification of heavenly deeds, and of knightly deeds in 
God's works, and no knightly deeds in worldly works. And 
pride is head of all deadly sins, that caused this knight to 
depart from Galahad. And where thou tookest the crown 
of gold thou sinnest in covetise and in theft: all this were 
no knightly deeds. And this Galahad, the holy knight, the 
which fought with the two knights, the two knights signify 
the two deadly sins which were wholly in this knight Melias ; 
and they might not withstand you, for ye are without deadly 
sin. Now departed Galahad from thence, and betaught 



130 SIR THOMAS MALORY 

them all unto God. Sir Melias said: My lord Galahad, as 
soon as I may ride I shall seek you. God send you health, 
said Galahad, and so took his horse and departed, and rode 
many journeys forward and backward, as adventure would 
lead him. And at the last it happened him to depart from 
a place or a castle the which was named Abblasoure; and 
he had heard no mass, the which he was wont ever to hear 
or ever he departed out of any castle or place, and kept 
that for a custom. Then Sir Galahad came unto a mountain 
where he found an old chapel, and found there nobody, for 
all, all was desolate; and there he kneeled tofore the altar, 
and besought God of wholesome counsel. So as he prayed 
he heard a voice that said: Go thou now, thou adventurous 
knight, to the Castle of Maidens, and there do thou away the 
wicked customs. 

CHAPTER XV 

HOW SIR GALAHAD FOUGHT WITH THE KNIGHTS OF 

THE CASTLE, AND DESTROYED THE 

WICKED CUSTOM 

When Sir Galahad heard this he thanked God, and took 
his horse ; and he had not ridden but half a mile, he saw in 
a valley afore him a strong castle with deep ditches, and 
there ran beside it a fair river that hight Severn ; and there 
he met with a man of great age, and either saluted other, 
and Galahad asked him the castle's name. Fair sir, said he, 
it is the Castle of Maidens. That is a cursed castle, said 
Galahad, and all they that be conversant therein, for all 
pity is out thereof, and all hardiness and mischief is therein. 
Therefore, I counsel you, sir knight, to turn again. Sir, said 
Galahad, wit you well I shall not turn again. Then looked 
Sir Galahad on his arms that nothing failed him, and then 
he put his shield afore him; and anon there met him seven 
fair maidens, the which said unto him : Sir knight, ye ride 
here in a great folly, for ye have the water to pass over. 
Why should I not pass the water? said Galahad. So rode 
he away from them and met with a squire that said : Knight, 
those knights in the castle defy you, and defenden you ye go 



THE HOLY GRAIL 131 

no further till that they wit what ye would. Fair sir, said 
Galahad, I come for to destroy the wicked custom of this 
castle. Sir, an ye will abide by that ye shall have enough 
to do. Go you now, said Galahad, and haste my needs. 
Then the squire entered into the castle. -And anon after 
there came out of the castle seven knights, and all were 
brethren. And when they saw Galahad they cried : Knight, 
keep thee, for we assure thee nothing but death. Why, said 
Galahad, will ye all have ado with me at once? Yea, said 
they, thereto mayest thou trust. Then Galahad put forth 
his spear and smote the foremost to the earth, that near he 
brake his neck. And therewithal the other smote him on 
his shield great strokes, so that their spears brake. Then 
Sir Galahad drew out his sword, and set upon them so hard 
that it was marvel to see it, and so through great force he 
made them to forsake the field; and Galahad chased them 
till they entered into the castle, and so passed through the 
castle at another gate. And there met Sir Galahad an old 
man clothed in religious clothing, and said: Sir, have here 
the keys of this castle. Then Sir Galahad opened the gates, 
and saw so much people in the streets that he might not 
number them, and all said : Sir, ye be welcome, for long have 
we abiden here our deliverance. Then came to him a gentle- 
woman and said : These knights be fled, but they will come 
again this night, and here to begin again their evil custom. 
What will ye that I shall do? said Galahad. Sir, said the 
gentlewoman, that ye send after all the knights hither that 
hold their lands of this castle, and make them to swear for 
to use the customs that were used heretofore of old time. I 
will well, said Galahad. And there she brought him an horn 
of ivory, bounden with gold richly, and said : Sir, blow this 
horn which will be heard two mile about this castle. When 
Sir Galahad had blown the horn he set him down upon a 
bed. Then came a priest to Galahad, and said: Sir, it is 
past a seven year agone that these seven brethren came into 
this castle, and harboured with the lord of this castle, that 
hight the Duke Lianour, and he was lord of all this country. 
And when they espied the duke's daughter, that was a full 
fair woman, then by their false covin they made debate 
betwixt themself, and the duke of his goodness would have 



132 SIR THOMAS MALORY 

departed them, and there they slew him and his eldest son. 
And then they took the maiden and the treasure of the 
castle. And then by great force they held all the knights 
of this castle against their will under their obeisance, and 
in great service and truage, robbing and pillaging the poor 
common people of all that they had. So it happened on a 
day the duke's daughter said: Ye have done unto me great 
wrong to slay mine own father, and my brother, and thus to 
hold our lands: not for then, she said, ye shall not hold 
this castle for many years, for by one knight ye shall be 
overcome. Thus she prophesied seven years agone. Well, 
said the seven knights, sithen ye say so, there shall never 
lady nor knight pass this castle but they shall abide maugre 
their heads, or die therefor, till that knight be come by whom 
we shall lose this castle. And therefore is it called the 
Maidens' Castle, for they have devoured many maidens. 
Now, said Galahad, is she here for whom this castle was 
lost? Nay sir, said the priest, she was dead within these 
three nights after that she was thus enforced; and sithen 
have they kept her younger sister, which endureth great 
pains with more other ladies. By this were the knights of 
the country come, and then he made them do homage and 
fealty to the king's daughter, and set them in great ease of 
heart. And in the morn there came one to Galahad and told 
him how that Gawaine, Gareth, and Uwaine, had slain the 
seven brethren. I suppose well, said Sir Galahad, and took 
his armour and his horse, and commended them unto God. 



CHAPTER XVI 

HOW SIR GAWAINE CAME TO THE ABBEY FOR TO 

FOLLOW GALAHAD, AND HOW HE WAS 

SHRIVEN TO A HERMIT 

Now, saith the tale, after Sir Gawaine departed, he rode 
many journeys, both toward and froward. And at the last 
he came to the abbey where Sir Galahad had the white 
shield, and there Sir Gawaine learned the way to sewe after 
Sir Galahad ; and so he rode to the abbey where Melias lay 



THE HOLY GRAIL 133 

sick, and there Sir Melias told Sir Gawaine of the marvellous 
adventures that Sir Galahad did. Certes, said Sir Gawaine, 
I am not happy that I took not the way that he went, for 
an I may meet with him I will not depart from him lightly, 
for all marvellous adventures that Sir Galahad achieveth. 
Sir, said one of the monks, he will not of your fellowship. 
Why? said Sir Gawaine. Sir, said he, for ye be wicked 
and sinful, and he is full blessed. Right as they thus stood 
talking there came in riding Sir Gareth. And then they 
made joy either of other. And on the morn they heard 
mass, and so departed. And by the way they met with Sir 
Uwaine les Avoutres, and there Sir Uwaine told Sir Gawaine 
how he had met with none adventure sith he departed from 
the court. Nor we, said Sir Gawaine. And either promised 
other of the three knights not to depart while they were in 
that quest, but if fortune caused it. So they departed and 
rode by fortune till that they came by the Castle of Maidens ; 
and there the seven brethren espied the three knights, and 
said: Sithen, we be flemyd by one knight from this castle, 
we shall destroy all the knights of King Arthur's that we 
may overcome, for the love of Sir Galahad. And therewith 
the seven knights set upon the three knights, and by fortune 
Sir Gawaine slew one of the brethren, and each one of his 
fellows slew another, and so slew the remnant. And then 
they took the way under the castle, and there they lost the 
way that Sir Galahad rode, and there every each of them 
departed from other; and Sir Gawaine rode till he came 
to an hermitage, and there he found the good man saying 
his evensong of Our Lady; and there Sir Gawaine asked 
harbour for charity, and the good man granted it him gladly. 
Then the good man asked him what he was. Sir, he said, 
I am a knight of King Arthur's that am in the quest of the 
Sangreal, and my name is Sir Gawaine. Sir, said the good 
man, I would wit how it standeth betwixt God and you. 
Sir, said Sir Gawaine, I will with a good will shew you my 
life if it please you; and there he told the hermit How a 
monk of an abbey called me wicked knight. He might well 
say it, said the hermit, for when ye were first made knight 
you should have taken you to knightly deeds and virtuous 
living, and ye have done the contrary, for ye have lived 



134 SIR THOMAS MALORY 

mischievously many winters; and Sir Galahad is a maid 
and sinner never, and that is the cause he shall achieve 
where he goeth that ye nor none such shall not attain, nor 
none in your fellowship, for ye have used the most untruest 
life that ever I heard knight live. For certes had ye not 
been so wicked as ye are, never had the seven brethren been 
slain by you and your two fellows. For Sir Galahad himself 
alone beat them all seven the day tofore, but his living 
is such he shall slay no man lightly. Also I may say you 
the Castle of Maidens betokeneth the good souls that were 
in prison afore the Incarnation of Jesu Christ. And the 
seven knights betoken the seven deadly sins that reigned that 
time in the world ; and I may liken the good Galahad unto 
the son of the High Father, that light within a maid, and 
bought all the souls out of thrall : so did Sir Galahad deliver 
all the maidens out of the woful castle. Now, Sir Gawaine, 
said the good man, thou must do penance for thy sin. Sir, 
what penance shall I do ? Such as I will give, said the good 
man. Nay, said Sir Gawaine, I may do no penance; for 
we knights adventurous oft suffer great woe and pain. Well, 
said the good man, and then he held his peace. And on the 
morn Sir Gawaine departed from the hermit, and betaught 
him unto God. And by adventure he met with Sir Aglovale 
and Sir Griflet, two knights of the Table Round. And they 
two rode four days without finding of any adventure, and at 
the fifth day they departed. And every each held as befel 
them by adventure. Here leaveth the tale of Sir Gawaine 
and his fellows, and speak we of Sir Galahad. 



CHAPTER XVII 

HOW SIR GALAHAD MET WITH SIR LAUNCELOT AND 

SIR PERCIVALE, AND SMOTE THEM DOWN, 

AND DEPARTED FROM THEM 

So when Sir Galahad was departed from the Castle of 
Maidens he rode till he came to a waste forest, and there 
he met with Sir Launcelot and Sir Percivale, but they knew 
him not, for he was new disguised. Right so Sir Launcelot, 



THE HOLY GRAIL 135 

his father, dressed his spear and brake it upon Sir Galahad, 
and Galahad smote him so again that he smote down horse 
and man. And then he drew his sword, and dressed him 
unto Sir Percivale, and smote him so on the helm, that it 
rove to the coif of steel; and had not the sword swerved 
Sir Percivale had been slain, and with the stroke he fell out 
of his saddle. This jousts was done tofore the hermitage 
where a recluse dwelled. And when she saw Sir Galahad 
ride, she said: God be with thee, best knight of the world. 
Ah certes, said she, all aloud that Launcelot and Percivale 
might hear it: An yonder two knights had known thee as 
well as I do they would not have encountered with thee. 
When Sir Galahad heard her say so he was adread to be 
known: therewith he smote his horse with his spurs and 
rode a great pace froward them. Then perceived they both 
that he was Galahad; and up they gat on their horses, and 
rode fast after him, but in a while he was out of their sight. 
And then they turned again with heavy cheer. Let us spere 
some tidings, said Percivale, at yonder recluse. Do as ye 
list, said Sir Launcelot. When Sir Percivale came to the 
recluse she knew him well enough, and Sir Launcelot both. 
But Sir Launcelot rode overthwart and endlong in a wild 
forest, and held no path but as wild adventure led him. And 
at the last he came to a stony cross which departed two 
ways in waste land; and by the cross was a stone that was 
of marble, but it was so dark that Sir Launcelot might not 
wit what it was. Then Sir Launcelot looked by him, and 
saw an old chapel, and there he weened to have found people ; 
and Sir Launcelot tied his horse till a tree, and there he did 
off his shield and hung it upon a tree. And then he went to 
the chapel door, and found it waste and broken. And within 
he found a fair altar, full richly arrayed with cloth of clene 
silk, and there stood a fair clean candlestick, which bare six 
great candles, and the candlestick was of silver. And when Sir 
Launcelot saw this light he had great will for to enter into 
the chapel, but he could find no place where he might enter ; 
then was he passing heavy and dismayed. Then he returned 
and came to his horse and did off his saddle and bridle, and 
let him pasture, and unlaced his helm, and ungirt his sword, 
and laid him down to sleep upon his shield tofore the cross. 

(i) hc xxxv 



136 SIR THOMAS MALORY 



CHAPTER XVIII 

HOW SIR LAUNCELOT, HALF SLEEPING AND HALF 

WAKING, SAW A SICK MAN BORNE IN A 

LITTER, AND HOW HE WAS HEALED 

WITH THE SANGREAL 

And so he fell on sleep; and half waking and sleeping 
he saw come by him two palfreys all fair and white, the 
which bare a litter, therein lying a sick knight. And when 
he was nigh the cross he there abode still. All this Sir 
Launcelot saw and beheld, for he slept not verily; and he 
heard him say: O sweet Lord, when shall this sorrow leave 
me? and when shall the holy vessel come by me, where- 
through I shall be blessed? For I have endured thus long, 
for little trespass. A full great while complained the knight 
thus, and always Sir Launcelot heard it. With that Sir 
Launcelot saw the candlestick with the six tapers come 
before the cross, and he saw nobody that brought it. Also 
there came a table of silver, and the holy vessel of the 
Sangreal, which Launcelot had seen aforetime in King 
Pescheour's house. And therewith the sick knight set him 
up, and held up both his hands, and said: Fair sweet Lord, 
which is here within this holy vessel; take heed unto me 
that I may be whole of this malady. And therewith on his 
hands and on his knees he went so nigh that he touched 
the holy vessel and kissed it, and anon he was whole; and 
then he said: Lord God, I thank thee, for I am healed of 
this sickness. So when the holy vessel had been there a 
great while it went unto the chapel with the chandelier 
and the light, so that Launcelot wist not where it was 
become ; for he was overtaken with sin that he had no power 
to rise ageyne the holy vessel ; wherefore after that many 
men said of him shame, but he took repentance after that. 
Then the sick knight dressed him up and kissed the cross; 
anon his squire brought him his arms, and asked his lord 
how he did. Certes, said he, I thank God right well, through 
the holy vessel I am healed. But I have marvel of this 
sleeping knight that had no power to awake when this holy 



THE HOLY GRAIL 137 

vessel was brought hither. I dare right well say, said the 
squire, that he dwelleth in some deadly sin whereof he was 
never confessed. By my faith, said the knight, whatsomever 
he be he is unhappy, for as I deem he is of the fellowship 
of the Round Table, the which is entered into the quest of 
the Sangreal. Sir, said the squire, here I have brought you 
all your arms save your helm and your sword, and therefore 
by mine assent now may ye take this knight's helm and 
his sword: and so he did. And when he was clene armed 
he took Sir Launcelot's horse, for he was better than his; 
and so departed they from the Cross. 



CHAPTER XIX 

HOW A VOICE SPAKE TO SIR LAUNCELOT, AND HOW HE 

FOUND HIS HORSE AND HIS HELM BORNE 

AWAY, AND AFTER WENT AFOOT 

Then anon Sir Launcelot waked, and set him up, and 
bethought him what he had seen there, and whether it were 
dreams or not. Right so heard he a voice that said : Sir 
Launcelot, more harder than is the stone, and more bitter 
than is the wood, and more naked and barer than is the leaf 
of the fig tree ; therefore go thou from hence, and withdraw 
thee from this holy place. And when Sir Launcelot heard 
this he was passing heavy and wist not what to do, and so 
departed sore weeping, and cursed the time that he was 
born. For then he deemed never to have had worship 
more. For those words went to his heart, till that he knew 
wherefore he was called so. Then Sir Launcelot went to 
the cross and found his helm, his sword, and his horse taken 
away. And then he called himself a very wretch, and most 
unhappy of all knights; and there he said: My sin and my 
wickedness have brought me unto great dishonour. For 
when I sought worldly adventures for worldly desires, I ever 
achieved them and had the better in every place, and never 
was I discomfit in no quarrel, were it right or wrong. And 
now I take upon me the adventures of holy things, and now 
I see and understand that mine old sin hindereth me and 



138 SIR THOMAS MALORY 

shameth me, so that I had no power to stir nor speak when 
the holy blood appeared afore me. So thus he sorrowed 
till it was day, and heard the fowls sing: then somewhat he 
was comforted. But when Sir Launcelot missed his horse 
and his harness then he wist well God was displeased with 
him. Then he departed from the cross on foot into a 
forest; and so by prime he came to an high hill, and found 
an hermitage and a hermit therein which was going unto 
mass. And then Launcelot kneeled down and cried on Our 
Lord mercy for his wicked works. So when mass was done 
Launcelot called him, and prayed him for charity for to hear 
his life. With a good will, said the good man. Sir, said 
he, be ye of King Arthur's court and of the fellowship of 
the Round Table? Yea forsooth, and my name is Sir 
Launcelot du Lake that hath been right well said of, and 
now my good fortune is changed, for I am the most wretch 
of the world. The hermit beheld him and had marvel how 
he was so abashed. Sir, said the hermit, ye ought to thank 
God more than any knight living, for He hath caused you to 
have more worldly worship than any knight that now liveth. 
And for your presumption to take upon you in deadly sin 
for to be in His presence, where His flesh and His blood 
was, that caused you ye might not see it with worldly eyes; 
for He will not appear where such sinners be, but if it be 
unto their great hurt and unto their great shame; and there 
is no knight living now that ought to give God so great 
thank as ye, for He hath given you beauty, seemliness, and 
great strength above all other knights; and therefore ye are 
the more beholding unto God than any other man, to love 
Him and dread Him, for your strength and manhood will 
little avail you an God be against you. 



THE HOLY GRAIL 139 



CHAPTER XX 



HOW SIR LAUNCELOT WAS SHRIVEN, AND WHAT SORROW 

HE MADE, AND OF THE GOOD ENSAMPLES 

WHICH WERE SHEWED HIM 

Then Sir Launcelot wept with heavy cheer, and said: 
Now I know well ye say me sooth. Sir, said the good man, 
hide none old sin from me. Truly, said Sir Launcelot, that 
were me full loth to discover. For this fourteen year I 
never discovered one thing that I have used, and that may I 
now wyte my shame and my misadventure. And then he 
told there that good man all his life. And how he had 
loved a queen unmeasurably and out of measure long. And 
all my great deeds of arms that I have done, I did for the 
most part for the queen's sake, and for her sake would I do 
battle were it right or wrong ; and never did I battle all only 
for God's sake, but for to win worship and to cause me to 
be the better beloved, and little or nought I thanked God 
of it. Then Sir Launcelot said: I pray you counsel me. I 
will counsel you, said the hermit, if ye will ensure me that 
ye will never come in that queen's fellowship as much as ye 
may forbear. And then Sir Launcelot promised him he 
nold, by the faith of his body. Look that your heart and 
your mouth accord, said the good man, and I shall ensure 
you ye shall have more worship than ever ye had. Holy 
father, said Sir Launcelot, I marvel of the voice that said 
to me marvellous words 2 as ye have heard toforehand. 
Have ye no marvel, said the good man, thereof, for it 
seemeth well God loveth you; for men may understand a 
stone is hard of kind, and namely one more than another; 
and that is to understand by thee, Sir Launcelot, for thou 
wilt not leave thy sin for no goodness that God hath sent 
thee; therefore thou art more than any stone, and never 
wouldst thou be made neysshe nor by water nor by fire, and 
that is the hete of the Holy Ghost may not enter in thee. 
Now take heed, in all the world men shall not find one 
knight to whom Our Lord hath given so much of grace as 
He hath given you, for He hath given you fairness with 



140 SIR THOMAS MALORY 

seemliness, He hath given thee wit, discretion to know good 
from evil. He hath given thee prowess and hardiness, and 
given thee to work so largely that thou hast had at all days 
the better wheresomever thou came; and now Our Lord 
will suffer thee no longer, but that thou shalt know Him 
whether thou wilt or nylt. And why the voice called thee 
bitterer than wood, for where overmuch sin dwelleth, there 
may be but little sweetness, wherefore thou art likened to 
an old rotten tree. Now have I shewed thee why thou art 
harder than the stone and bitterer than the tree. Now shall 
I shew thee why thou art more naked and barer than the fig 
tree. It befel that Our Lord on Palm Sunday preached in 
Jerusalem, and there He found in the people that all hardness 
was harboured in them, and there He found in all the town 
not one that would harbour him. And then He went without 
the town, and found in the middes of the way a fig tree, the 
which was right fair and well garnished of leaves, but fruit 
had it none. Then Our Lord cursed the tree that bare no 
fruit; that betokeneth the fig tree unto Jerusalem, that had 
leaves and no fruit. So thou, Sir Launcelot, when the Holy 
Grail was brought afore thee, He found in thee no fruit, nor 
good thought nor good will, and defouled with lechery. 
Certes, said Sir Launcelot, all that you have said is true, and 
from henceforward I cast me, by the grace of God, never to 
be so wicked as I have been, but as to follow knighthood 
and to do feats of arms. Then the good man enjoined Sir 
Launcelot such penance as he might do and to pursue 
knighthood, and so assoiled him, and prayed Sir Launcelot 
to abide with him all that day. I will well, said Sir Launce- 
lot, for I have neither helm, nor horse, nor sword. As 
for that, said the good man, I shall help you or tomorn 
at even of an horse, and all that longed unto you. And 
then Sir Launcelot repented him greatly. 

Here leave th of the history of syr launcelot. 

And here foloweth of sir Percyvale 

de galys which is the xiiii 

book. 



THE HOLY GRAIL 141 



THE FOURTEENTH BOOK 



CHAPTER I 

HOW SIR PERCIVALE CAME TO A RECLUSE AND ASKED COUN- 
SEL, AND HOW SHE TOLD HIM THAT SHE 
WAS HIS AUNT 

NOW saith the tale, that when Sir Launcelot was 
ridden after Sir Galahad, the which had all these 
adventures above said, Sir Percivale turned again 
unto the recluse, where he deemed to have tidings of that 
knight that Launcelot followed. And so he kneeled at her 
window, and the recluse opened it and asked Sir Percivale 
what he would. Madam, he said, I am a knight of King 
Arthur's court, and my name is Sir Percivale de Galis. 
When the recluse heard his name she had great joy of him, 
for mickle she had loved him tofore any other knight, for she 
ought to do so, for she was his aunt. And then she com- 
manded the gates to be opened, and there he had all the cheer 
that she might make him, and all that was in her power was 
at his commandment. So on the morn Sir Percivale went to 
the recluse and asked her if she knew that knight with the 
white shield. Sir, said she, why would ye wit? Truly, 
madam, said Sir Percivale, I shall never be well at ease till 
that I know of that knight's fellowship, and that I may fight 
with him, for I may not leave him so lightly, for I have the 
shame yet. Ah, Percivale, said she, would ye fight with 
him? I see well ye have great will to be slain as your 
father was through outrageousness. Madam, said Sir Perci- 
vale, it seemeth by your words that ye know me. Yea, said 
she, I well ought to know you, for I am your aunt, although 
I be in a priory place. For some called me sometime the 
queen of the Waste Lands, and I was called the queen 
of most riches in the world; and it pleased me never my 
riches so much as doth my poverty. Then Sir Percivale 
wept for very pity when that he knew it was his aunt. 
Ah, fair nephew, said she, when heard ye tidings of your 



142 SIR THOMAS MALORY 

mother? Truly, said he, I heard none of her, but I dream 
of her much in my sleep; and therefore I wot not whether 
she be dead or on live. Certes, fair nephew, said she, your 
mother is dead, for after your departing from her she took 
such a sorrow that anon, after she was confessed, she died. 
Now, God have mercy on her soul, said Sir Percivale, 
it sore f orthinketh me ; but all we must change the life. 
Now, fair aunt, tell me what is the knight? I deem 
it be he that bare the red arms on Whitsunday. Wit you 
well, said she, that this is he, for otherwise ought he not 
to do, but to go in red arms; and that same knight hath 
no peer, for he worketh all by miracle, and he shall never be 
overcome of none earthly man's hand. 



CHAPTER II 

HOW MERLIN LIKENED THE ROUND TABLE TO THE 

WORLD, AND HOW THE KNIGHTS THAT 

SHOULD ACHIEVE THE SANGREAL 

SHOULD BE KNOWN 

Also Merlin made the Round Table in tokening of round- 
ness of the world, for by the Round Table is the world 
signified by right, for all the world, Christian and heathen, 
repair unto the Round Table; and when they are chosen 
to be of the fellowship of the Round Table they think 
them more blessed and more in worship than if they had 
gotten half the world; and ye have seen that they have 
lost their fathers and their mothers, and all their kin, and 
their wives and their children, for to be of your fellowship. 
It is well seen by you ; for since ye have departed from 
your mother ye would never see her, ye found such fellow- 
ship at the Round Table. When Merlin had ordained the 
Round Table he said, by them which should be fellows of 
the Round Table the truth of the Sangreal should be well 
known. And men asked him how men might know them 
that should best do and to achieve the Sangreal? Then he 
said there should be three white bulls that should achieve 
it, and the two should be maidens, and the third should be 



THE HOLY GRAIL 143 

chaste. And that one of the three should pass his father 
as much as the lion passeth the leopard, both of strength 
and hardiness. They that heard Merlin say so said thus 
unto Merlin : Sithen there shall be such a knight, thou 
shouldest ordain by thy crafts a siege, that no man should 
sit in it but he all only that shall pass all other knights. 
Then Merlin answered that he would do so. And then he 
made the Siege Perilous, in the which Galahad sat in at his 
meat on Whitsunday last past. Now, madam, said Sir Per- 
civale, so much have I heard of you that by my good will 
I will never have ado with Sir Galahad but by way of 
kindness; and for God's love, fair aunt, can ye teach me 
some way where I may find him ? for much would I love 
the fellowship of him. Fair nephew, said she, ye must ride 
unto a castle the which is called Goothe, where he hath a 
cousin-germain, and there may ye be lodged this night. 
And as he teacheth you, pursue after as fast as ye can ; and 
if he can tell you no tidings of him, ride straight unto the 
Castle of Carbonek, where the maimed king is there lying, 
for there shall ye hear true tidings of him. 



CHAPTER III 

HOW SIR PERCIVALE CAME INTO A MONASTERY, WHERE HE 
FOUND KING EVELAKE, WHICH WAS AN OLD MAN 

Then departed Sir Percivale from his aunt, either making 
great sorrow. And so he rode till evensong time. And 
then he heard a clock smite ; and then he was ware of an 
house closed well with walls and deep ditches, and there he 
knocked at the gate and was let in, and he alit and was led 
unto a chamber, and soon he was unarmed. And there he 
had right good cheer all that night ; and on the morn he 
heard his mass, and in the monastery he found a priest 
ready at the altar. And on the right side he saw a pew 
closed with iron, and behind the altar he saw a rich bed 
and a fair, as of cloth of silk and gold. Then Sir Percivale 
espied that therein was a man or a woman, for the visage 
was covered; then he left off his looking and heard his 



144 SIR THOMAS MALORY 

service. And when it came to the sacring, he that lay- 
within that percloos dressed him up, and uncovered his 
head; and then him beseemed a passing old man, and he 
had a crown of gold upon his head, and his shoulders were 
naked and unhilled unto his navel. And then Sir Percivale 
espied his body was full of great wounds, both on the 
shoulders, arms, and visage. And ever he held up his 
hands against our Lord's body, and cried: Fair, sweet 
Father, Jesu Christ, forget not me. And so he lay down, 
but always he was in his prayers and orisons; and him 
seemed to be of the age of three hundred winter. And 
when the mass was done the priest took Our Lord's body 
and bare it to the sick king. And when he had used it he 
did off his crown, and commanded the crown to be set on 
the altar. Then Sir Percivale asked one of the brethren 
what he was. Sir, said the good man, ye have heard much 
of Joseph of Aramathie, how he was sent by Jesu Christ 
into this land for to teach and preach the holy Christian 
faith; and therefore he suffered many persecutions the 
which the enemies of Christ did unto him, and in the city 
of Sarras he converted a king whose name was Evelake. 
And so this king came with Joseph into this land, and ever 
he was busy to be thereas the Sangreal was; and on a time 
be nighed it so nigh that Our Lord was displeased with 
him, but ever he followed it more and more, till God struck 
him almost blind. Then this king cried mercy, and said : 
Fair Lord, let me never die till the good knight of my 
blood of the ninth degree be come, that I may see him 
openly that he shall achieve the Sangreal, that I may kiss 
him. 

CHAPTER IV 

HOW SIR PERCIVALE SAW MANY MEN OF ARMS BEARING A 
DEAD KNIGHT, AND HOW HE FOUGHT AGAINST THEM 

When the king thus had made his prayers he heard a 
voice that said : Heard be thy prayers, for thou shalt not 
die till he have kissed thee. And when that knight shall 
come the clearness of your eyes shall come again, and thou 



THE HOLY GRAIL. 145 

shalt see openly, and thy wounds shall be healed, and erst 
shall they never close. And this befel of King Evelake, 
and this same king hath lived this three hundred winters 
this holy life, and men say the knight is in the court that 
shall heal him. Sir, said the good man, I ,pray you tell me 
what knight that ye be, and if ye be of King Arthur's court 
and of the Table Round. Yea, forsooth, said he, and my 
name is Sir Percivale de Galis. And when the good man 
understood his name he made great joy of him. And then 
Sir Percivale departed and rode till the hour of noon. And he 
met in a valley about a twenty men of arms, which bare in 
a bier a knight deadly slain. And when they saw Sir Perci- 
vale they asked him of whence he was. And he answered : 
Of the court of King Arthur. Then they cried all at once : 
Slay him. Then Sir Percivale smote the first to the earth 
and his horse upon him. And then seven of the knights 
smote upon his shield all at once, and the remnant slew his 
horse so that he fell to the earth. So had they slain him 
or taken him had not the good knight, Sir Galahad, with the 
red arms come there by adventure into those parts. And 
when he saw all those knights upon one knight he cried: 
Save me that knight's life. And then he dressed him toward 
the twenty men of arms as fast as his horse might drive, with 
his spear in the rest, and smote the foremost horse and man 
to the earth. And when his spear was broken he set his hand 
to his sword, and smote on the right hand and on the left 
hand that it was marvel to see, and at every stroke he smote 
one down or put him to a rebuke, so that they would fight no 
more but fled to a thick forest, and Sir Galahad followed 
them. And when Sir Percivale saw him chase them so, he 
made great sorrow that his horse was away. And then he 
wist well it was Sir Galahad. And then he cried aloud: 
Ah, fair knight, abide and suffer me to do thankings unto 
thee, for much have ye done for me. But ever Sir Galahad 
rode so fast that at the last he passed out of his sight. And 
as fast as Sir Percivale might he went after him on foot, 
crying. And then he met with a yeoman riding upon an 
hackney, the which led in his hand a great steed blacker than 
any bear. Ah, fair friend, said Sir Percivale, as ever I may 
do for you, and to be your true knight in the first place ye 



146 SIR THOMAS MALORY 

will require me, that ye will lend me that black steed, that I 
might overtake a knight the which rideth afore me. Sir 
knight, said the yeoman, I pray you hold me excused of 
that, for that I may not do. For wit ye well, the horse is 
such a man's horse, that an I lent it you or any man, that 
he would slay me. Alas, said Sir Percivale, I had never so 
great sorrow as I have had for losing of yonder knight. Sir, 
said the yeoman, I a am right heavy for you, for a good horse 
would beseem you well ; but I dare not deliver you this 
horse but if ye would take him from me. That will I not do, 
said Sir Percivale. And so they departed ; and Sir Percivale 
set him down under a tree, and made sorrow out of measure. 
And as he was there, there came a knight riding on the 
horse that the yeoman led, and he was clene armed. 



CHAPTER V 

HOW A YEOMAN DESIRED HIM TO GET AGAIN AN HORSE 

AND HOW SIR PERCIVALE'S HACKNEY WAS SLAIN, 

AND HOW HE GAT AN HORSE 

And anon the yeoman came pricking after as fast as ever 
he might, and asked Sir Percivale if he saw any knight 
riding on his black steed. Yea, sir forsooth, said he; why, 
sir, ask ye me that? Ah, sir, that steed he hath benome 
me with strength; wherefor my lord will slay me in what 
place he findeth me. Well, said Sir Percivale, what wouldst 
thou that I did? Thou seest well that I am on foot, but 
an I had a good horse I should bring him soon again. 
Sir, said the yeoman, take mine hackney and do the best 
ye can, and I shall serve you on foot to wit how that ye 
shall speed. Then Sir Percivale alit upon that hackney, 
and rode as fast as he might, and at the last he saw that 
knight. And then he cried : Knight, turn again ; and he 
turned and set his spear again Sir Percivale, and he smote 
the hackney in the middes of the breast that he fell down 
dead to the earth, and there he had a great fall, and the 
other rode his way. And then Sir Percivale was wood 
worth, and cried: Abide, wicked knight; coward and false- 



THE HOLY GRAIL 147 

hearted knight, turn again and fight with me on foot. But 
he answered not, but passed on his way. When Sir Perci- 
vale saw he would not turn he cast away his helm and sword, 
and said : Now am I a very wretch, cursed and most un- 
happy above all other knights. So in this. sorrow he abode 
all that day till it was night; and then he was faint, and 
laid him down and slept till it was midnight; and then he 
awakened and saw afore him a woman which said unto him 
right fiercely: Sir Percivale, what dost thou here? He 
answered, I do neither good nor great ill. If thou wilt ensure 
me, said she, that thou wilt fulfil my will when I summon 
thee, I shall lend thee mine own horse which shall bear thee 
whither thou wilt. Sir Percivale was glad of her proffer, and 
ensured her to fulfil all her desire. Then abide me here, and 
I shall go and fetch you an horse. And so she came soon 
again and brought an horse with her that was inly black. 
When Percivale beheld that horse he marvelled that it was 
so great and so well apparelled ; and not for then he was so 
hardy, and he leapt upon him, and took none heed of himself. 
And so anon as he was upon him he thrust to him with his 
spurs, and so he rode by a forest, and the moon shone clear. 
And within an hour and less he bare him four days' journey 
thence, until he came to a rough water the which roared, and 
his horse would have borne him into it. 



CHAPTER VI 

OF THE GREAT DANGER THAT SIR PERCIVALE WAS 

IN BY HIS HORSE, AND HOW HE SAW A 

SERPENT AND A LION FIGHT 

And when Sir Percivale came nigh the brim, and saw the 
water so boistous, he doubted to overpass it. And then he 
made a sign of the cross on his forehead. When the fiend 
felt him so charged he shook off Sir Percivale, and he went 
into the water crying and roaring, making great sorrow, and 
it seemed unto him that the water brent. Then Sir Percivale 
perceived it was a fiend, the which would have brought him 
unto his perdition. Then he commended himself unto God, 



148 SIR THOMAS MALORY 

and prayed Our Lord to keep him from all such temptations ; 
and so he prayed all that night till on the morn that it was 
day; then he saw that he was in a wild mountain the which 
was closed with the sea nigh all about, that he might see no 
land about him which might relieve him, but wild beasts. 
And then he went into a valley, and there he saw a young 
serpent bring a young lion by the neck, and so he came 
by Sir Percivale. With that came a great lion crying and 
roaring after the serpent. And as fast as Sir Percivale saw 
this he marvelled, and hied him thither, but anon the lion 
had overtaken the serpent and began battle with him. And 
then Sir Percivale thought to help the lion for he was the 
more natural beast of the two; and therewith he drew his 
sword, and set his shield afore him, and there he gave the 
serpent such a buffet that he had a deadly wound. When 
the lion saw that, he made no resemblant to fight with him, 
but made him all the cheer that a beast might make a man. 
Then Percivale perceived that, and cast down his shield 
which was broken; and then he did off his helm for to 
gather wind, for he was greatly enchafed with the serpent : 
and the lion went alway about him fawning as a spaniel. 
And then he stroked him on the neck and on the shoulders. 
And then he thanked God of the fellowship of that beast. 
And about noon the lion took his little whelp and trussed 
him and bare him there he came from. Then was Sir 
Percivale alone. And as the tale telleth, he was one of 
the men of the world at that time which most believed in 
our Lord Jesu Christ, for in those days there were but few 
folks that believed in God perfectly. For in those days the 
son spared not the father no more than a stranger. And so 
Sir Percivale comforted himself in our Lord Jesu, and 
besought God no temptation should bring him out of God's 
service, but to endure as his true champion. Thus when 
Sir Percivale had prayed he saw the lion come toward him, 
and then he couched down at his feet. And so all that night 
the lion and he slept together ; and when Sir Percivale slept 
he dreamed a marvellous dream, that there two ladies met 
with him, and that one sat upon a lion, and that other sat 
upon a serpent, and that one of them was young, and the 
other was old; and the youngest him thought said: Sir 



THE HOLY GRAIL 149 

Percivale, my lord saluteth thee, and sendeth thee word that 
thou array thee and make thee ready, for tomorn thou must 
fight with the strongest champion of the world. And if thou 
be overcome thou shalt not be quit for losing of any of thy 
members, but thou shalt be shamed for ever to the world's 
end. And then he asked her what was her lord. And she 
said the greatest lord of all the world : and so she departed 
suddenly that he wist not where. 



CHAPTER VII 

OF THE VISION THAT SIR PERCIVALE SAW, AND HOW 
HIS VISION WAS EXPOUNDED, AND OF HIS LION 

Then came forth the other lady that rode upon the 
serpent, and she said : Sir Percivale, I complain me of you 
that ye have done unto me, and have not offended unto 
you. Certes, madam, he said, unto you nor no lady I never 
offended. Yes, said she, I shall tell you why. I have 
nourished in this place a great while a serpent, which 
served me a great while, and yesterday ye slew him as he 
gat his prey. Say me for what cause ye slew him, for the 
lion was not yours. Madam, said Sir Percivale, I know 
well the lion was not mine, but I did it for the lion is of 
more gentler nature than the serpent, and therefore I slew 
him; meseemeth I did not amiss against you. Madam, said 
he, what would ye that I did? I would, said she, for the 
amends of my beast that ye become my man. And then 
he answered: That will I not grant you. No, said she, 
truly ye were never but my servant syn ye received the 
homage of Our Lord Jesu Christ. Therefore, I ensure you 
in what place I may find you without keeping I shall take you 
as he that sometime was my man. And so she departed 
from Sir Percivale and left him sleeping, the which was sore 
travailed of his advision. And on the morn he arose and 
blessed him, and he was passing feeble. Then was Sir 
Percivale ware in the sea, and saw a ship come sailing 
toward him; and Sir Percivale went unto the ship and 
found it Qovered within and without with white samite. 



150 SIR THOMAS MALORY 

And at the board stood an old man clothed in a surplice, 
in likeness of a priest. Sir, said Sir Percivale, ye be 
welcome. God keep you, said the good man. Sir, said 
the old man, of whence be ye? Sir, said Sir Percivale, I 
am of King Arthur's court, and a knight of the Table 
Round, the which am in the quest of the Sangreal; and 
here am I in great duresse, and never like to escape out 
of this wilderness. Doubt not, said the good man, an ye 
be so true a knight as the order of chivalry requireth, and 
of heart as ye ought to be, ye should not doubt that none 
enemy should slay you. What are ye? said Sir Percivale. 
Sir, said the old man, I am of a strange country, and 
hither I come to comfort you. Sir, said Sir Percivale, what 
signifieth my dream that I dreamed this night? And 
there he told him altogether: She which rode upon the 
lion betokeneth the new law of holy church, that is to 
understand, faith, good hope, belief, and baptism. For 
she seemed younger than the other it is great reason, for 
she was born in the resurrection and the passion of our 
Lord Jesu Christ. And for great love she came to thee 
to warn thee of thy great battle that shall befall thee. 
With whom, said Sir Percivale, shall I fight? With the 
most champion of the world, said the old man ; for as 
the lady said, but if thou quit thee well thou shalt not 
be quit by losing of one member, but thou shalt be shamed 
to the world's end. And she that rode on the serpent 
signifieth the old law, and that serpent betokeneth a fiend. 
And why she blamed thee that thou slewest her servant, 
it betokeneth nothing; the serpent that thou slewest be- 
tokeneth the devil that thou rodest upon to the rock. And 
when thou madest a sign of the cross, there thou slewest 
him, and put away his power. And when she asked thee 
amends and to become her man, and thou saidst thou 
wouldst not, that was to make thee to believe on her and 
leave thy baptism. So he commanded Sir Percivale to 
depart, and so he leapt over the board and the ship, and all 
went away he wist not whither. Then he went up unto 
the rock and found the lion which always kept him fellow- 
ship, and he stroked him upon the back and had great joy 
of him. 



THE HOLY GRAIL 151 

CHAPTER VIII 

HOW SIR PERCIVALE SAW A SHIP COMING TO HIM-WARD, 

AND HOW THE LADY OF THE SHIP TOLD HIM 

OF HER DISHERITANCE 

By that Sir Percivale had abiden there till mid-day he 
saw a ship came rowing in the sea as all the wind of the 
world had driven it. And so it drove under that rock. And 
when Sir Percivale saw this he hied him thither, and found 
the ship covered with silk more blacker than any bear, and 
therein was a gentlewoman of great beauty, and she was 
clothed richly that none might be better. And when she 
saw Sir Percivale she said : Who brought you in this wilder- 
ness where ye be never like to pass hence, for ye shall 
die here for hunger and mischief? Damosel, said Sir Per- 
civale, I serve the best man of the world, and in his 
service he will not suffer me to die, for who that knocketh 
shall enter, and who that asketh shall have, and who that 
seeketh him he hideth him not. But then she said: Sir 
Percivale, wot ye what I am? Yea, said he. Now who 
taught you my name? said she. Now, said Sir Percivale, 
I know you better than ye ween. And I came out of the 
waste forest where I found the red knight with the white 
shield, said the damosel. Ah, damosel, said he, with that 
knight would I meet passing fain. Sir knight, said she, an 
ye will ensure me by the faith that ye owe unto knighthood 
that ye shall do my will what time I summon you, and I 
shall bring you unto that knight. Yea, said he, I shall 
promise you to fulfil your desire. Well, said she, now shall 
I tell you. I saw him in the forest chasing two knights 
unto a water, the which is called Mortaise; and they drove 
him into that water for dread of death, and the two knights 
passed over, and the red knight passed after, and there his 
horse was drenched, and he, through great strength, escaped 
unto the land: thus she told him, and Sir Percivale was 
passing glad thereof. Then she asked him if he had ate 
any meat late. Nay, madam, truly I ate no meat nigh this 
three days, but late here I spake with a good man that fed 

(j) hc xxxv 



152 SIR THOMAS MALORY 

me with his good words and holy, and refreshed me greatly. 
Ah, sir knight, said she, that same man is an enchanter and 
a multiplier of words. For an ye believe him ye shall plainly 
be shamed, and die in this rock for pure hunger, and be 
eaten with wild beasts ; and ye be a young man and a goodly 
knight, and I shall help you an ye will. What are ye, 
said Sir Percivale, that proffered me thus great kindness ? 
I am, said she, a gentlewoman that am disherited, which 
was sometime the richest woman of the world. Damosel, 
said Sir Percivale, who hath disherited you? for I have great 
pity of you. Sir, said she, I dwelled with the greatest man 
of the world, and he made me so fair and clear that there 
was none like me; and of that great beauty I had a little 
pride more than I ought to have had. Also I said a word 
that pleased him not. And then he would not suffer me to 
be any longer in his company, and so drove me from mine 
heritage, and so disherited me, and he had never pity of me 
nor of none of my council, nor of my court. And sithen, sir 
knight, it hath befallen me so, and through me and mine I 
have benome him many of his men, and made them to 
become my men. For they ask never nothing of me but I 
give it them, that and much more. Thus I and all my ser- 
vants were against him night and day. Therefore I know 
now no good knight, nor no good man, but I get them on 
my side an I may. And for that I know that thou art a 
good knight, I beseech you to help me; and for ye be a 
fellow of the Round Table, wherefore ye ought not to fail 
no gentlewoman which is disherited, an she besought you 
of help. 

CHAPTER IX 

HOW SIR PERCIVALE PROMISED HER HELP, AND HOW 

HE REQUIRED HER OF LOVE, AND HOW HE 

WAS SAVED FROM THE FIEND 

Then Sir Percivale promised her all the help that he 
might; and then she thanked him. And at that time the 
weather was hot. Then she called unto her a gentlewoman 
and bad her bring forth a pavilion; and so she did, and 



THE HOLY GRAIL 153 

pyght it upon the gravel. Sir, said she, now may ye rest 
you in this heat of the day. Then he thanked her, and she 
put off his helm and his shield, and there he slept a great 
while. And then he awoke and asked her if she had any 
meat, and she said: Yea, also ye shall have enough. And 
so there was set enough upon the table, and thereon so 
much that he had marvel, for there was all manner of meats 
that he could think on. Also he drank there the strongest 
wine that ever he drank, him thought, and therewith he was 
a little chafed more than he ought to be; with that he 
beheld the gentlewoman, and him thought she was the 
fairest creature that ever he saw. And then Sir Percivale 
proffered her love, and prayed her that she would be his. 
Then she refused him, in a manner, when he required her, 
for the cause he should be the more ardent on her, and 
ever he ceased not to pray her of love. And when she saw 
him well enchafed, then she said: Sir Percivale, wit you 
well I shall not i'ulfil your will but if ye swear from hence- 
forth ye shall be r.w true servant, and to do nothing but 
that I shall command you. Will ye ensure me this as ye 
be a true knight? Yea, said he, fair lady, by the faith of 
my body. Well, said she, now shall ye do with me what so 
it please you; and now wit ye well ye are the knight in the 
world that I have most desire for. And then two squires 
were commanded to make a bed in middes of the pavilion. 
And anon she was unclothed and laid therein. And then 
Sir Percivale laid him down by her naked ; and by adventure 
and grace he saw his sword lie on the ground naked, in 
whose pommel was a red cross and the sign of the crucifix 
therein, and bethought him on his knighthood and his 
promise made toforehand unto the good man; then he 
made a sign of the cross in his forehead, and therewith the 
pavilion turned up so down, and then it changed unto a 
smoke, and a black cloud, and then he was adread and 
cried aloud: 



154 SIR THOMAS MALORY 



CHAPTER X 

HOW SIR PERCIVALE FOR PENANCE ROVE HIMSELF 
THROUGH THE THIGH ; AND HOW SHE 
WAS KNOWN FOR THE DEVIL 

Fair sweet father, Jesu Christ, ne let me not be shamed, 
the which was nigh lost had not thy good grace been. And 
then he looked into a ship, and saw her enter therein, which 
said: Sir Percivale, ye have betrayed me. And so she went 
with the wind roaring and yelling, that it seemed all the 
water brent after her. Then Sir Percivale made great 
sorrow, and drew his sword unto him, saying: Sithen my 
flesh will be my master I shall punish it; and therewith he 
rove himself through the thigh that the blood start about 
him, and said: O good Lord, take this in recompensation of 
that I have done against thee, my Lord. So then he clothed 
him and armed him, and called himself a wretch, saying: 
How nigh was I lost, and to have lost that I should never 
have gotten again, that was my virginity, for that may never 
be recovered after it is once lost. And then he stopped his 
bleeding wound with a piece of his shirt. Thus- as he made 
his moan he saw the same ship come from Orient that the 
good man was in the day afore, and the noble knight was 
ashamed with himself, and therewith he fell in a swoon. 
And when he awoke he went unto him weakly, and there 
he saluted this good man. And then he asked Sir Percivale : 
How hast thou done sith I departed? Sir, said he, here 
was a gentlewoman and led me into deadly sin. And there 
he told him altogether. Knew ye not the maid? said the 
good man. Sir, said he, nay, but well I wot the fiend sent 
her hither to shame me. O good knight, said he, thou art 
a fool, for that gentlewoman was the master fiend of hell, 
the which hath power above all devils, and that was the old 
lady that thou sawest in thine advision riding on the serpent. 
Then he told Sir Percivale how our Lord Jesu Christ beat 
him out of heaven for his sin, the which was the most 
brightest angel of heaven, and therefore he lost his heritage : 
And that was the champion that thou foughtest withal, the 



THE HOLY GRAIL 155 

which had overcome thee had not the grace of God been. 
Now beware Sir Percivale, and taken this for an ensample. 
And then the good man vanished away. Then Sir Percivale 
took his arms, and entered into the ship, and so departed 
from thence. 

Here endeth the fourtenthe booke, whiche is of syr 
percyval. And here foloweth of syre launce- 
lot, whiche is the fyftenth book. 



THE FIFTEENTH BOOK 



CHAPTER I 

HOW SIR LAUNCELOT CAME TO A CHAPEL, WHERE HE 

FOUND DEAD, IN A WHITE SHIRT, A MAN OF 

RELIGION, OF AN HUNDRED WINTER OLD 

WHEN the hermit had kept Sir Launcelot three days, 
the hermit gat him a horse, an helm, and a sword. 
And then he departed about the hour of noon. And 
then he saw a little house. And when he came near he saw 
a chapel, and there beside he saw an old man that was clothed 
all in white full richly; and then Sir Launcelot said: God 
save you. God keep you, said the good man, and make you a 
good knight. Then Sir Launcelot alit and entered into the 
chapel and there he saw an old man dead, in a white shirt of 
passing fine cloth. Sir, said the good man, this man that is 
dead ought not to be in such clothing as ye see him in, for 
in that he brake the oath of his order, for he hath been 
more than an hundred winter a man of a religion. And 
then the good man and Sir Launcelot went into the chapel ; 
and the good man took a stole about his neck, and a book, 
and then he conjured on that book; and with that they saw 
in an hideous figure and horrible, that there was no man so 
hard-hearted nor so hard but he should have been afeard. 
Then said the fiend: Thou hast travailed me greatly; now 



156 SIR THOMAS MALORY 

tell me what thou wilt with me. I will, said the good man, 
that thou tell me how my fellow became dead, and whether 
he be saved or damned. Then he said with an horrible 
voice: He is not lost but saved. How may that be? said 
the good man ; it seemed to me that he lived not well, for 
he brake his order for to wear a shirt where he ought to 
wear none, and who that trespasseth against our order doth 
not well. Not so, said the fiend, this man that lieth here 
dead was come of a great lineage. And there was a lord 
that hight the Earl de Vale, that held great war against this 
man's nephew, the which hight Aguarus. And so this 
Aguarus saw the earl was bigger than he. Then he went 
for to take counsel of his uncle, the which lieth here dead 
as ye may see. And then he asked leave, and went out of 
his hermitage for to maintain his nephew against the mighty 
earl ; and so it happed that this man that lieth here dead 
did so much by his wisdom and hardiness that the earl was 
taken, and three of his lords, by force of this dead man. 



CHAPTER II 

OF A DEAD MAN, HOW MEN WOULD HAVE HEWN HIM, 

AND IT WOULD NOT BE, AND HOW SIR LAUNCELOT 

TOOK THE HAIR OF THE DEAD MAN 

Then was there peace betwixt the earl and this Aguarus, 
and great surety that the earl should never war against him. 
Then this dead man that here lieth came to this hermitage 
again; and then the earl made two of his nephews for to 
be avenged upon this man. So they came on a day, and 
found this dead man at the sacring of his mass, and they 
abode him till he had said mass. And then they set upon 
him and drew out swords to have slain him; but there 
would no sword bite on him more than upon a gad of steel, 
for the high Lord which he served he him preserved. Then 
made they a great fire, and did off all his clothes, and the 
hair off his back. And then this dead man hermit said 
unto them: Ween you to burn me? It shall not lie in your 
power nor to perish me as much as a thread an there were 



THE HOLY GRAIL 157 

any on my body. No, said one of them, it shall be essayed. 
And then they despoiled him, and put upon him this shirt, 
and cast him in a fire, and there he lay all that night till it 
was day in that fire, and was not dead, and so in the morn 
I came and found him dead; but I found neither thread 
nor skin tamyd, and so took him out of the fire with great 
fear, and led him here as ye may see. And now may ye 
suffer me to go my way, for I have said you the sooth. 
And then he departed with a great tempest. Then was the 
good man and Sir Launcelot more gladder than they were 
tofore. And then Sir Launcelot dwelled with that good 
man that night. Sir, said the good man, be ye not Sir 
Launcelot du Lake? Yea, sir, said he. What seek ye in 
this country? Sir, said Sir Launcelot, I go to seek the 
adventures of the Sangreal. Well, said he, seek it ye may 
well, but though it were here ye shall have no power to see 
it no more than a blind man should see a bright sword, and 
that is long on your sin, and else ye were more abler than 
any man living. And then Sir Launcelot began to weep. 
Then said the good man : Were ye confessed sith ye entered 
into the quest of the Sangreal ? Yea, sir, said Sir Launcelot. 
Then upon the morn when the good man had sung his 
mass, then they buried the dead man. Then Sir Launcelot 
said: Father, what shall I do? Now, said the good man, I 
require you take this hair that was this holy man's and put 
it next thy skin, and it shall prevail thee greatly. Sir, and I 
will do it, said Sir Launcelot. Also I charge you that ye 
eat no flesh as long as ye be in the quest of the Sangreal, 
nor ye shall drink no wine, and that ye hear mass daily an 
ye may do it. So he took the hair and put it upon him, 
and so departed at evensong-time. And so rode he into a 
forest, and there he met with a gentlewoman riding upon a 
white palfrey, and then she asked him : Sir knight, whither 
ride ye? Certes, damosel, said Launcelot, I wot not whither 
I ride but as fortune leadeth me. Ah, Sir Launcelot, said 
she, I wot what adventure ye seek, for ye were afore time 
nearer than ye be now, and yet shall ye see it more openly 
than ever ye did, and that shall ye understand in short 
time. Then Sir Launcelot asked her where he might be har- 
boured that night. Ye shall not find this day nor night, but 



158 SIR THOMAS MALORY 

tomorn ye shall find harbour good, and ease of that ye be in 
doubt of. And then he commended her unto God. Then he 
rode till that he came to a Cross, and took that for his host 
as for that night. 

CHAPTER III 

OF A VISION THAT SIR LAUNCELOT HAD, AND HOW 
HE TOLD IT TO AN HERMIT, AND DE- 
SIRED COUNSEL OF HIM 

And so he put his horse to pasture, and did off his helm 
and his shield, and made his prayers unto the Cross that he 
never fall in deadly sin again. And so he laid him down to 
sleep. And anon as he was on sleep it befell him there an 
advision, that there came a man afore him all by compass of 
stars, and that man had a crown of gold on his head, and 
that man led in his fellowship seven kings and two knights. 
And all these worshipped the Cross, kneeling upon their 
knees, holding up their hands toward the heaven. And all 
they said: Fair sweet Father of heaven, come and visit us, 
and yield unto us every each as we have deserved. Then 
looked Launcelot up to the heaven, and him seemed the 
clouds did open, and an old man came down, with a com- 
pany of angels, and alit among them, and gave unto every 
each his blessing, and called them his servants, and good 
and true knights. And when this old man had said thus 
he came to one of those knights, and said: I have lost all 
that I have set in thee, for thou hast ruled thee against 
me as a warrior, and used wrong wars with vain glory, more 
for the pleasure of the world than to please me, therefore 
thou shalt be confounded without thou yield me my treasure. 
All this advision saw Sir Launcelot at the Cross. And on 
the morn he took his horse and rode till midday; and there 
by adventure he met with the same knight that took his 
horse, helm, and his sword, when he slept when the Sangreal 
appeared afore the Cross. When Sir Launcelot saw him he 
saluted him not fair, but cried on high: Knight, keep thee, 
for thou hast done to me great unkindness. And then they 
put afore them their spears, and Sir Launcelot came so 



THE HOLY GRAIL 159 

fiercely upon him that he smote him and his horse down to 
the earth, that he had nigh broken his neck. Then Sir 
Launcelot took the knight's horse that was his own afore- 
hand, and descended from the horse he sat upon, and 
mounted upon his own horse, and tied the knight's own 
horse to a tree that he might find that horse when that he 
was arisen. Then Sir Launcelot rode till night and by 
adventure he met an hermit, and each of them saluted 
other; and there he rested with that good man all night, 
and gave his horse such as he might get. Then said the 
good man unto Launcelot : Of whence be ye ? Sir, said 
he, I am of Arthur's court, and my name is Sir Launcelot 
du Lake that am in the quest of the Sangreal, and therefore 
I pray you to counsel me of a vision the which I had at the 
Cross. And so he told him all. 



CHAPTER IV 

HOW THE HERMIT EXPOUNDED TO SIR LAUNCE- 
LOT HIS VISION, AND TOLD HIM THAT SIR 
GALAHAD WAS HIS SON 

Lo, Sir Launcelot, said the good man, there thou mightest 
understand the high lineage that thou art come of, and 
thine advision betokeneth. After the passion of Jesu Christ 
forty year, Joseph of Aramathie preached the victory of 
King Evelake, that he had in the battles the better of his 
enemies. And of the seven kings and the two knights : 
the first of them is called Nappus, an holy man; and the 
second hight Nacien, in remembrance of his grandsire, and 
in him dwelled our lord Jesu Christ; and the third was 
called Helias le Grose; and the fourth hight Lisais; and 
the fifth hight Jonas, he departed out of his country and 
went into Wales, and took there the daughter of Manuel, 
whereby he had the land of Gaul, and he came to dwell 
in this country. And of him came King Launcelot thy 
grandsire, the which there wedded the king's daughter of 
Ireland, and he was as worthy a man as thou art, and of 
him came King Ban, thy father, the which was the last 



160 SIR THOMAS MALORY 

of the seven kings. And by thee, Sir Launcelot, it signifieth 
that the angels said thou were none of the seven fellowships. 
And the last was the ninth knight, he was signified to a 
lion, for he should pass all manner of earthly knights that 
is Sir Galahad, the which thou gat on King Pelles' daughter ; 
and thou ought to thank God more than any other man 
living, for of a sinner earthly thou hast no peer as in 
knighthood, nor never shall be. But little thank hast thou 
given to God for all the great virtues that God hath lent 
thee. Sir, said Launcelot, ye say that that good knight is 
my son. That oughtest thou to know and no man better, 
said the good man, for thou knewest the daughter of King 
Pelles fleshly, and on her thou begattest Galahad, and that 
was he that at the feast of Pentecost sat in the Siege 
Perilous; and therefore make thou it known openly that he 
is one of thy begetting on King Pelles' daughter, for that 
will be your worship and honour, and to all thy kindred. 
And I counsel you in no place press not upon him to 
have ado with him. Well, said Launcelot, meseemeth that 
good knight should pray for me unto the High Father, 
that I fall not to sin again. Trust thou well, said the good 
man, thou farest mickle the better for his prayer; but the 
son shall not bear the wickedness of the father, nor the 
father shall not bear the wickedness of the son, but every 
each shall bear his own burden. And therefore beseek thou 
only God, and he will help thee in all thy needs. And then 
Sir Launcelot and he went to supper, and so laid him to 
rest, and the hair pricked so Sir Launcelot's skin which 
grieved him full sore, but he took it meekly, and suffered 
the pain. And so on the morn he heard his mass and took 
his arms, and so took his leave. 



CHAPTER V 

HOW SIR LAUNCELOT JOUSTED WITH MANY KNIGHTS, 
AND HOW HE WAS TAKEN 

And then mounted upon his horse, and rode into a 
forest, and held no highway. And as he looked afore 



THE HOLY GRAIL 161 

him he saw a fair plain, and beside that a fair castle, and 
afore the castle were many pavilions of silk and of diverse 
hue. And him seemed that he saw there five hundred 
knights riding on horseback; and there were two parties: 
they that were of the castle were all on -black horses and 
their trappours black, and they that were without were all 
on white horses and trappours, and every each hurtled to 
other that it marvelled Sir Launcelot. And at the last him 
thought they of the castle were put to the worse. Then 
thought Sir Launcelot for to help there the weaker party 
in increasing of his chivalry. And so Sir Launcelot thrust 
in among the party of the castle, and smote down a knight, 
horse and man, to the earth. And then he rushed here 
and there, and did marvellous deeds of arms. And then 
he drew out his sword, and struck many knights to the 
earth, so that all those that saw him marvelled that ever 
one knight might do so great deeds of arms. But always 
the white knights held them nigh about Sir Launcelot, for 
to tire him and wind him. But at the last, as a man may 
not ever endure, Sir Launcelot waxed so faint of fighting 
and travailing, and was so weary of his great deeds, but 
he might not lift up his arms for to give one stroke, so 
that he weened never to have borne arms; and then they 
all took and led him away into a forest, and there made 
him to alight and to rest him. And then all the fellowship 
of the castle were overcome for the default of him. Then 
they said all unto Sir Launcelot: Blessed be God that ye 
be now of our fellowship, for we shall hold you in our 
prison; and so they left him with few words. And then 
Sir Launcelot made great sorrow, For never or now was 
I never at tournament nor jousts but I had the best, and 
now I am shamed; and then he said: Now I am sure 
that I am more sinfuller than ever I was. Thus he rode 
sorrowing, and half a day he was out of despair, till that 
he came into a deep ' valley. And when Sir Launcelot 
saw he might not ride up into the mountain, he there alit 
under an apple tree, and there he left his helm and his 
shield, and put his horse unto pasture. And then he laid 
him down to sleep. And then him thought there came 
an old man afore him, the which said: Ah, Launcelot of 



162 SIR THOMAS MALORY 

evil faith and poor belief, wherefore is thy will turned so 
lightly toward thy deadly sin? And when he had said 
thus he vanished away, and Launcelot wist not where he 
was become. Then he took his horse, and armed him; 
and as he rode by the way he saw a chapel where was a 
recluse, which had a window that she might see up to the 
altar. And all aloud she called Launcelot, for that he 
seemed a knight errant. And then he came, and she asked 
him what he was, and of what place, and where about he 
went to seek. 

CHAPTER VI 

HOW SIR LAUNCELOT TOLD HIS VISION UNTO A WOMAN, 
AND HOW SHE EXPOUNDED IT UNTO HIM 

And then he told her all together word by word, and 
the truth how it befell him at the tournament. And after 
told her his advision that he had had that night in his sleep, 
and prayed her to tell him what it might mean, for he was 
not well content with it. Ah, Launcelot, said she, as long 
as ye were knight of earthly knighthood ye were the most 
marvellous man of the world, and most adventurous. Now, 
said the lady, sithen ye be set among the knights of heavenly 
adventures, if adventure fell thee contrary at that tournament 
have thou no marvel, for that tournament yesterday was but 
a tokening of Our Lord. And not for then there was none 
enchantment, for they at the tournament were earthly knights. 
The tournament was a token to see who should have most 
knights, either Eliazar, the son of King Pelles, or Argustus, 
the son of King Harlon. But Eliazar was all clothed in 
white, and Argustus was covered in black, the which were 
come. All what this betokeneth I shall tell you. The day 
of Pentecost, when King Arthur held his court, it befell 
that earthly kings and knights took a tournament together, 
that is to say the quest of the Sangreal. The earthly knights 
were they the which were clothed all in black, and the 
covering betokeneth the sins whereof they be not confessed. 
And they with the covering of white betokeneth virginity, 
and they that chose chastity. And thus was the quest begun 



THE HOLY GRAIL 163 

in them. Then thou beheld the sinners and the good men, 
and when thou sawest the sinners overcome, thou inclinest 
to that party for bobaunce and pride of the world, and all 
that must be left in that quest, for in this quest thou shalt 
have many fellows and thy betters. For thou art so feeble 
of evil trust and good belief, this made it when thou were 
there where they took thee and led thee into the forest. 
And anon there appeared the Sangreal unto the white 
knights, but thou was so feeble of good belief and faith 
that thou mightest not abide it for all the teaching of the 
good man, but anon thou turnest to the sinners, and that 
caused thy misadventure that thou should'st know good 
from evil and vain glory of the world, the which is not worth 
a pear. And for great pride thou madest great sorrow that 
thou haddest not overcome all the white knights with the 
covering of white by whom was betokened virginity and 
chastity; and therefore God was wroth with you, for 
God loveth no such deeds in this quest. And this advision 
signifieth that thou were of evil faith and of poor belief, 
the which will make thee to fall into the deep pit of hell 
if thou keep thee not. Now have I warned thee of thy vain 
glory and of thy pride, that thou hast many times erred 
against thy Maker. Beware of everlasting pain, for of all 
earthly knights I have most pity of thee, for I know well 
thou hast not thy peer of any earthly sinful man. And so 
she commended Sir Launcelot to dinner. And after dinner 
he took his horse and commended her to God, and so rode 
into a deep valley, and there he saw a river and an high 
mountain. And through the water he must needs pass, the 
which was hideous; and then in the name of God he took 
it with good heart. And when he came over he saw an 
armed knight, horse and man black as any bear; without 
any word he smote Sir Launcelot's horse to the earth; and 
so he passed on, he wist not where he was become. And 
then he took his helm and his shield, and thanked God of 
his adventure. 

Here leveth of the story of syr launcelot. 

And speke we of sir gazvayne, the 

whiche is the xvi. hook 



164 SIR THOMAS MALORY 

THE SIXTEENTH BOOK 
CHAPTER I 

HOW SIR GAWAINE WAS NIGH WEARY OF THE QUEST OF 
THE SANGREAL, AND OF HIS MARVELLOUS DREAM 

WHEN Sir Gawaine was departed from his fellowship 
he rode long without any adventure., For he found 
not the tenth part of adventure as he was wont to do. 
For Sir Gawaine rode from Whitsuntide until Michaelmas 
and found none adventure that pleased him. So on a day it 
befell Gawaine met with Sir Ector de Maris, and either 
made great joy of other that it were marvel to tell. And so 
they told every each other, and complained them greatly 
that they could find none adventure. Truly, said Sir 
Gawaine unto Sir Ector, I am nigh weary of this quest, and 
loth I am to follow further in strange countries. One thing 
marvelled me, said Sir Ector, I have met with twenty 
knights, fellows of mine, and all they complain as I do. I 
have marvel, said Sir Gawaine, where that Sir Launcelot, 
your brother, is. Truly, said Sir Ector, I cannot hear of 
him, nor of Sir Galahad, Percivale, nor Sir Bors. Let them 
be, said Sir Gawaine, for they four have no peers. And if 
one thing were not in Sir Launcelot he had no fellow of 
none earthly man; but he is as we be, but if he took more 
pain upon him. But an these four be met together they 
will be loth that any man meet with them; for an they fail 
of the Sangreal it is in waste of all the remnant to recover 
it. Thus as Ector and Gawaine rode more than eight days. 
And on a Saturday they found an old chapel, the which was 
wasted that there seemed no man thither repaired; and 
there they alit, and set their spears at the door, and in they 
entered into the chapel, and there made their orisons a great 
while, and set them down in the sieges of the chapel. And 
as they spake of one thing and other, for heaviness they fell 
on sleep, and there befel them both marvellous adventures. 
Sir Gawaine him seemed he came into a meadow full of 



THE HOLY GRAIL 165 

herbs and flowers, and there he saw a rack of bulls, an 
hundred and fifty, that were proud and black, save three of 
them were all white, and one had a black spot, and the other 
two were so fair and so white that they might be no whiter. 
And these three bulls which were so fair were tied with two 
strong cords. And the remnant of the bulls said among 
them : Go we hence to seek better pasture. And so some 
went, and some came again, but they were so lean that they 
might not stand upright; and of the bulls that were so 
white, that one came again and no more. But when this 
white bull was come again among these other there rose up 
a great cry for lack of wind that failed them; and so they 
departed one here and another there: this advision befell 
Gawaine that night. 

CHAPTER II 

OF THE VISION OF SIR ECTOR, AND HOW HE JOUSTED WITH 
SIR UWAINE LES AVOUTRES, HIS SWORN BROTHER 

But to Ector de Maris befell another vision the contrary. 
For it seemed him that his brother, Sir Launcelot, and he 
alit out of a chair and leapt upon two horses, and the one 
said to the other: Go we seek that we shall not find. And 
him thought that a man beat Sir Launcelot, and despoiled 
him, and clothed him in another array, the which was all 
full of knots, and set him upon an ass, and so he rode till 
he came to the fairest well that ever he saw; and Sir 
Launcelot alit and would have drunk of that well. And 
when he stooped to drink of the water the water sank from 
him. And when Sir Launcelot saw that, he turned and 
went thither [from whence he came; thus always sleeping 
Sir E. dreamed that he and his brother Sir L. rode unto the 
time they came, etc.] as the head came from. And in the 
meanwhile he trowed that himself and Sir Ector rode till that 
they came to a rich man's house where there was a wedding. 
And there he saw a king the which said : Sir knight, here is 
no place for you. And then he turned again unto the chair 
that he came from. Thus within a while both Gawaine and 
Ector awaked, and either told other of their advision, the 
which marvelled them greatly. Truly, said Ector, I shall 



166 SIR THOMAS MALORY 

never be merry till I hear tidings of my brother Launcelot. 
Now as they sat thus talking they saw an hand showing unto 
the elbow, and was covered with red samite, and upon that 
hung a bridle not right rich, and held within the fist a great 
candle which burned right clear, and so passed afore them, 
and entered into the chapel, and then vanished away and 
they wist not where. And anon came down a voice which 
said : Knights of full evil faith and of poor belief, these two 
things have failed you, and therefore ye may not come to 
the adventures of the Sangreal. Then first spake Gawaine 
and said: Ector, have ye heard these words? Yea truly, 
said Sir Ector, I heard all. Now go we, said Sir Ector, 
unto some hermit that will tell us of our advision, for it 
seemeth me we labour all in vain. And so they departed 
and rode into a valley, and there met with a squire which 
rode on an hackney, and they saluted him fair. Sir, said 
Gawaine, can thou teach us to any hermit? Here is one 
in a little mountain, but it is so rough there may no horse 
go thither, and therefore ye must go upon foot; there shall 
ye find a poor house, and there is Nacien the hermit, which 
is the holiest man in this country. And so they departed 
either from other. And then in a valley they met with 
a knight all armed, which proffered them to joust as far 
as he saw them. In the name of God, said Sir Gawaine, 
sith I departed from Camelot there was none proffered me 
to joust but once. And now, sir, said Ector, let me joust 
with him. Nay, said Gawaine, ye shall not but if I be beat • 
it shall not forethink me then if ye go after me. And then 
either embraced other to joust and came together as fast as 
their horses might run, and brast their shields and the 
mails, and the one more than the other ; and Gawaine was 
wounded in the left side, but the other knight was smitten 
through the breast, and the spear came out on the other 
side, and so they fell both out of their saddles, and in 
the falling they brake both their spears. Anon Gawaine 
arose and set his hand to his sword, and cast his shield 
afore him. But all for naught was it, for the knight had no 
power to rise against him. Then said Gawaine: Ye must 
yield you as an overcome man, or else I may slay you. Ah, 
sir knight, said he, I am but dead, for God's sake and of your 
gentleness lead me here unto an abbey that I may receive 



THE HOLY GRAIL 167 

my Creator. Sir, said Gawaine, I know no house of religion 
hereby. Sir, said the knight, set me on an horse tofore you, 
and I shall teach you. Gawaine set him up in the saddle, 
and he leapt up behind him for to sustain him, and so came 
to an abbey where they were well received; and anon he 
was unarmed, and received his Creator. Then he prayed 
Gawaine to draw out the truncheon of the spear out of his 
body. Then Gawaine asked him what he was that knew 
him not. I am, said he, of King Arthur's court, and was a 
fellow of the Round Table, and we were brethren sworn 
together; and now Sir Gawaine, thou hast slain me, and 
my name is Uwaine les Avoutres, that sometime was son 
unto King Uriens, and was in the quest of the Sangreal; 
and now forgive it thee God, for it shall ever be said that 
the one sworn brother hath slain the other. 



CHAPTER III 

HOW SIR GAWAINE AND SIR ECTOR CAME TO AN HERMITAGE 

TO BE CONFESSED, AND HOW THEY TOLD TO 

THE HERMIT THEIR VISIONS 

Alas, said Gawaine, that ever this misadventure is be- 
fallen me. No force, said Uwaine, sith I shall die this 
death, of a much more worshipfuller man's hand might I 
not die; but when ye come to the court recommend me 
unto my lord, King Arthur, and all those that be left on 
live, and for old brotherhood think on me. Then began 
Gawaine to weep, and Ector also. And then Uwaine him- 
self and Sir Gawaine drew out the truncheon of the spear, 
and anon departed the soul from the body. Then Sir 
Gawaine and Sir Ector buried him as men ought to bury a 
king's son, and made write upon his name, and by whom he 
was slain. Then departed Gawaine and Ector as heavy as 
they might for their misadventure, and so rode till that they 
came to the rough mountain, and there they tied their 
horses and went on foot to the hermitage. And when they 
were come up they saw a poor house, and beside the chapel 
a little courtelage, where Nacien the hermit gathered worts, 

(k) hc xxxv 



168 SIR THOMAS MALORY 

as he which had tasted none other meat of a great while. 
And when he saw the errant knights he came toward them 
and saluted them, and they him again. Fair lords, said he, 
what adventure brought you hither? Sir, said Gawaine, to 
speak with you for to be confessed. Sir, said the hermit, I 
am ready. Then they told him so much that he wist well 
what they were. And then he thought to counsel them if 
he might. Then began Gawaine first and told him of his 
advision that he had had in the chapel, and Ector told him 
all as it is afore rehearsed. Sir, said the hermit unto Sir 
Gawaine, the fair meadow and the rack therein ought to be 
understood the Round Table, and by the meadow ought to 
be understood humility and patience, those be the things 
which be always green and quick; for men may no time 
overcome humility and patience, therefore was the Round 
Table founded; and the chivalry hath been at all times 
so by the fraternity which was there that she might not be 
overcome; for men said she was founded in patience and in 
humility. At the rack ate an hundred and fifty bulls; but 
they ate not in the meadow, for their hearts should be set in 
humility and patience, and the bulls were proud and black 
save only three. By the bulls is to understand the fellowship 
of the Round Table, which for their sin and their wicked- 
ness be black. Blackness is to say without good or virtuous 
works. And the three bulls which were white save only one 
that was spotted: the two white betoken Sir Galahad and 
Sir Percivale, for they be maidens clene and without spot; 
and the third that had a spot signifieth Sir Bors de Ganis, 
which trespassed but once in his virginity, but sithen he 
kept himself so well in chastity that all is forgiven him and 
his misdeeds. And why those three were tied by the necks, 
they be three knights in virginity and chastity, and there is 
no pride smitten in them. And the black bulls which said: 
Go we hence, they were those which at Pentecost at the 
high feast took upon them to go in the quest of the Sangreal 
without confession: they might not enter in the meadow of 
humility and patience. And therefore they returned into 
waste countries, that signifieth death, for there shall die 
many of them: every each of them shall slay other for sin, 
and they that shall escape shall be so lean that it shall be 



THE HOLY GRAIL 169 

marvel to see them. And of the three bulls without spot, the 
one shall come again, and the other two never. 



CHAPTER IV 

HOW THE HERMIT EXPOUNDED THEIR VISION 

Then spake Nacien unto Ector: Sooth it is that Launce- 
lot and ye come down off one chair: the chair betokeneth 
mastership and lordship which ye came down from. But 
ye two knights, said the hermit, ye go to seek that ye shall 
never find, that is the Sangreal; for it is the secret thing of 
our Lord Jesu Christ. What is to mean that Sir Launcelot 
fell down off his horse: he hath left pride and taken him to 
humility, for he had cried mercy loud for his sin, and sore 
repented him, and our Lord hath clothed him in his cloth- 
ing which is full of knots, that is the hair that he weareth 
daily. And the ass that he rode upon is a beast of humility, 
for God would not ride upon no steed, nor upon no palfrey ; 
so in ensample that an ass betokeneth meekness, that thou 
sawest Sir Launcelot ride on in thy sleep. And the well 
whereas the water sank from him when he should have taken 
thereof, and when he saw he might not have it, he returned 
thither from whence he came, for the well betokeneth the 
high grace of God, the more men desire it to take it, the 
more shall be their desire. So when he came nigh the San- 
greal, he meeked him that he held him not a man worthy to 
be so nigh the holy vessel, for he had been so befouled in 
deadly sin by the space of many years ; yet when he kneeled 
to drink of the well, there he saw great providence of the 
Sangreal. And for he had served so long the devil, he shall 
have vengeance four and twenty days long, for that he hath 
been the devil's servant four and twenty years. And then 
soon after he shall return unto Camelot out of this country, 
and he shall say a part of such things as he hath found. 
Now will I tell you what betokeneth the hand with the 
candle and the bridle: that is to understand the holy ghost 
where charity is ever, and the bridle signifieth abstinence. 
For when she is bridled in Christian man's heart she holdeth 



170 SIR THOMAS MALORY 

him so short that he falleth not in deadly sin. And the 
candle which sheweth clearness and sight signifieth the right 
way of Jesu Christ. And when he went and said: Knights 
of poor faith and of wicked belief, these three things failed, 
charity, abstinence, and truth; therefore ye may not attain 
that high adventure of the Sangreal. 



CHAPTER V 

OF THE GOOD COUNSEL THAT THE HERMIT GAVE TO HIM 

Certes, said Gawaine, soothly have ye said, that I see it 
openly. Now. I pray you, good man and holy father, tell 
me why we met not with so many adventures as we were 
wont to do, and commonly have the better. I shall tell you 
gladly, said the good man; the adventure of the Sangreal 
which ye and many other have undertaken the quest of it 
and find it not, the cause is for it appeareth not to sinners. 
Wherefore marvel not though ye fail thereof, and many 
other. For ye be an untrue knight, and a great murderer, 
and to good men signifieth other things than murder. For 
I dare say as sinful as Sir Launcelot hath been, sith that he 
went into the quest of the Sangreal he slew never man, nor 
nought shall, till that he come unto Camelot again, for he 
hath taken upon him for to forsake sin. And nere that he 
nys not stable, but by his thought he is likely to turn again, 
he should be next to achieve it save Galahad, his son. But 
God knoweth his thought and his unstableness, and yet shall 
he die right an holy man, and no doubt he hath no fellow of 
no earthly sinful man. Sir, said Gawaine, it seemeth me by 
your words that for our sins it will not avail us to travel in 
this quest. Truly, said the good man, there be an hundred 
such as ye be that never shall prevail, but to have shame. 
And when they had heard these voices they commended 
him unto God. Then the good man called Gawaine, and 
said: It is long time passed sith that ye were made knight, 
and never sithen thou servedst thy Maker, and now thou art 
so old a tree that in thee is neither life nor fruit; wherefore 
bethink thee that thou yield to Our Lord the bare rind, sith 



THE HOLY GRAIL 171 

the fiend hath the leaves and the fruit. Sir, said Gawaine, 
an I had leisure I would speak with you, but my fellow here, 
Sir Ector, is gone, and abideth me yonder beneath the hill. 
Well, said the good man, thou were better to be counselled. 
Then departed Gawaine and came to Ector, and so took 
their horses and rode till they came to a forester's house, 
which harboured them right well. And on the morn they 
departed from their host, and rode long or they could find 
any adventure. 

CHAPTER VI 

HOW SIR BORS MET WITH AN HERMIT, AND HOW 

HE WAS CONFESSED TO HIM, AND OF HIS 

PENANCE ENJOINED TO HIM 

When Bors was departed from Camelot he met with a 
religious man riding on an ass, and Sir Bors saluted him. 
Anon the good man knew him that he was one of the knights 
errant that was in the quest of the Sangreal. What are ye ? 
said the good man. Sir, said he, I am a knight that fain 
would be counselled in the quest of the Sangreal, for he shall 
have much earthly worship that may bring it to an end. 
Certes, said the good man, that is sooth, for he shall be the 
best knight of the world, and the fairest of all the fellowship. 
But wit you well there shall none attain it but by cleanness, 
that is pure confession. So rode they together till that they 
came to an hermitage. And there he prayed Bors to dwell 
all that night with him. And so he alit and put away his 
armour, and prayed him that he might be confessed; and so 
they went into the chapel, and there he was clean confessed, 
and they ate bread and drank water together. Now, said 
the good man, I pray thee that thou eat none other till that 
thou sit at the table where the Sangreal shall be. Sir, said 
he, I agree me thereto, but how wit ye that I shall sit there. 
Yes, said the good man, that know I, but there shall be but 
few of your fellows with you. All is welcome, said Sir Bors, 
that God sendeth me. Also, said the good man, instead of 
a shirt, and in sign of chastisement, ye shall wear a garment ; 
therefore I pray you do off all your clothes and your shirt: 



172 SIR THOMAS MALORY 

and so he did. And then he took him a scarlet coat, so 
that should be instead of his shirt till he had fulfilled the 
quest of the Sangreal; and the good man found in him so 
marvellous a life and so stable, that he marvelled and felt 
that he was never corrupt in fleshly lusts, but in one time 
that he begat Elian le Blank. Then he armed him, and 
took his leave, and so departed. And so a little from thence 
he looked up into a tree, and there he saw a passing great 
bird upon an old tree, and it was passing dry, without 
leaves; and the bird sat above, and had birds, the which 
were dead for hunger. So smote he himself with his beak, 
the which was great and sharp. And so the great bird bled 
till that he died among his birds. And the young birds took 
the life by the blood of the great bird. When Bors saw this 
he wist well it was a great tokening; for when he saw the 
great bird arose not, then he took his horse and yede his 
way. So by evensong, by adventure he came to a strong 
tower and an high, and there was he lodged gladly. 



CHAPTER VII 

HOW SIR BORS WAS LODGED WITH A LADY, AND HOW HE 

TOOK UPON HIM FOR TO FIGHT AGAINST A 

CHAMPION FOR HER LAND 

And when he was unarmed they led him into an high 
tower where was a lady, young, lusty, and fair. And she 
received him with great joy, and made him to sit down by 
her, and so was he set to sup with flesh and many dainties. 
And when Sir Bors saw that, he bethought him on his pen- 
ance, and bad a squire to bring him water. And so he 
brought him, and he made sops therein and ate them. Ah, 
said the lady, I trow ye like not my meat. Yes, truly, said 
Sir Bors, God thank you, madam, but I may eat none other 
meat this day. Then she spake no more as at that time, for 
she was loth to displease him. Then after supper they 
spake of one thing and other. With that came a squire and 
said: Madam, ye must purvey you tomorn for a champion, 
for else your sister will have this castle and also your lands, 



THE HOLY GRAIL 173 

except ye can find a knight that will fight tomorn in your 
quarrel against Pridam le Noire. Then she made sorrow 
and said: Ah, Lord God, wherefore granted ye to hold my 
land, whereof I should now be disherited without reason 
and right ? And when Sir Bors had heard her say thus, he 
said: I shall comfort you. Sir, said she, I shall tell you 
there was here a king that hight Aniause, which held all this 
land in his keeping. So it mishapped he loved a gentlewoman 
a great deal elder than I. So took he her all this land 
to her keeping, and all his men to govern; and she brought 
up many evil customs whereby she put to death a great 
part of his kinsmen. And when he saw that, he let chase 
her out of this land, and betook it me, and all this land 
in my demesnes. But anon as that worthy king was dead, 
this other lady began to war upon me, and hath destroyed 
many of my men, and turned them against me, that I have 
wellnigh no man left me; and I have nought else but this 
high tower that she left me. And yet she hath promised 
me to have this tower, without I can find a knight to fight 
with her champion. Now tell me, said Sir Bors, what 
is that Pridam le Noire? Sir, said she, he is the most 
doubted man of this land. Now may ye send her word that 
ye have found a knight that shall fight with that Pridam le 
Noire in God's quarrel and yours. Then that lady was not 
a little glad, and sent word that she was purveyed, and that 
night Bors had good cheer; but in no bed he would come, 
but laid him on the floor, nor never would do otherwise till 
that he had met with the quest of the Sangreal. 



CHAPTER VIII 

OF A VISION WHICH SIR BORS HAD THAT NIGHT, AND 
HOW HE FOUGHT AND OVERCAME HIS ADVERSARY 

And anon as he was asleep him befel a vision, that there 
came to him two birds, the one as white as a swan, and the 
other was marvellous black; but it was not so great as the 
other, but in the likeness of a Raven. Then the white bird 
came to him, and said: An thou wouldst give me meat and 



174 SIR THOMAS MALORY 

serve me I should give thee all the riches of the world, and 
I shall make thee as fair and as white as I am. So the 
white bird departed, and there came the black bird to him, 
and said : An thou wolt, serve me to-morrow and have me 
in no despite though I be black, for wit thou well that more 
availeth my blackness than the other's whiteness. And then 
he departed. And he had another vision: him thought 
that he came to a great place which seemed a chapel, and 
there he found a chair set on the left side, which was 
wormeaten and feeble. And on the right hand were two 
flowers like a lily, and the one would have benome the 
other's whiteness, but a good man departed them that the 
one touched not the other; and then out of every flower 
came out many flowers, and fruit great plenty. Then him 
thought the good man said: Should not he do great folly 
that would let these two flowers perish for to succour the 
rotten tree, that it fell not to the earth? Sir, said he, 
it seemeth me that this wood might not avail. Now keep 
thee, said the good man, that thou never see such adventure 
befall thee. Then he awaked and made a sign of the cross 
in middes of the forehead, and so rose and clothed him. 
And there came the lady of the place, and she saluted 
him, and he her again, and so went to a chapel and heard 
their service. And there came a company of knights, that 
the lady had sent for, to lead Sir Bors unto battle. Then 
asked he his arms. And when he was armed she prayed 
him to take a little morsel to dine. Nay, madam, said he, 
that shall I not do till I have done my battle, by the grace 
of God. And so he lept upon his horse, and departed all 
the knights and men with him. And as soon as these two 
ladies met together, she which Bors should fight for com- 
plained her, and said: Madam, ye have done me wrong to 
bereave me of my lands that King Aniause gave me, and 
full loth I am there should be any battle. Ye shall not 
choose, said the other lady, or else your knight withdraw 
him. Then there was the cry made, which party had the 
better of the two knights, that his lady should rejoice all 
the land. Now departed the one knight here, and the other 
there. Then they came together with such a raundon that 
they pierced their shields and their hauberks, and the spears 



THE HOLY GRAIL 175 

flew in pieces, and they wounded either other sore. Then 
hurtled they together, so that they fell both to the earth, 
and their horses betwixt their legs; and anon they arose, 
and set hands to their swords, and smote each one other 
upon the heads, that they made great v/ounds and deep, 
that the blood went out of their bodies. For there found 
Sir Bors greater defence in that knight more than he weened. 
For that Pridam was a passing good knight, and he wounded 
Sir Bors full evil, and he him again; but ever this Pridam 
held the stour in like hard. That perceived Sir Bors, and 
suffered him till he was nigh attaint. And then he ran 
upon him more and more, and the other went back for 
dread of death. So in his withdrawing he fell upright, and 
Sir Bors drew his helm so strongly that he rent it from his 
head, and gave him great strokes with the flat of his sword 
upon the visage, and bad him yield him or he should slay 
him. Then he cried him mercy and said: Fair knight, for 
God's love slay me not, and I shall ensure thee never to war 
against thy lady, but be alway toward her. Then Bors let 
him be ; then the old lady fled with all her knights. 



CHAPTER IX 

HOW THE LADY WAS RETURNED TO HER LANDS BY THE 

BATTLE OF SIR BORS, AND OF HIS DEPARTING, 

AND HOW HE MET SIR LIONEL TAKEN AND 

BEATEN WITH THORNS, AND ALSO OF 

A MAID WHICH SHOULD HAVE 

BEEN DISHONOURED 

So then came Bors to all those that held lands of his lady, 
and said he should destroy them but if they did such service 
unto her as longed to their lands. So they did their homage, 
and they that would not were chased out of their lands. 
Then befel that young lady to come to her estate again, by 
the mighty prowess of Sir Bors de Ganis. So when all the 
country was well set in peace, then Sir Bors took his leave 
and departed; and she thanked him greatly, and would 
have given him great riches, but he refused it. Then he 



176 SIR THOMAS MALORY 

rode all that day till night, and came to an harbour to a 
lady which knew him well enough, and made of him great 
joy. Upon the morn, as soon as the day appeared, Bors 
departed from thence, and so rode into a forest unto the 
hour of midday, and there befel him a marvellous adventure. 
So he met at the departing of the two ways two knights that 
led Lionel, his brother, all naked, bounden upon a strong 
hackney, and his hands bounden tofore his breast. And 
every each of them held in his hands thorns wherewith they 
went beating him so sore that the blood trailed down more 
than in an hundred places of his body, so that he was all 
blood tofore and behind, but he said never a word; as he 
which was great of heart he suffered all that ever they did to 
him as though he had felt none anguish. Anon Sir Bors 
dressed him to rescue him that was his brother; and so he 
looked upon the other side of him, and saw a knight which 
brought a fair gentlewoman, and would have set her in the 
thickest place of the forest for to have been the more surer 
out of the way from them that sought him. And she which 
was nothing assured cried with an high voice: Saint Mary 
succour your maid. And anon she espied where Sir Bors 
came riding. And when she came nigh him she deemed 
him a knight of the Round Table, whereof she hoped to 
have some comfort; and then she conjured him: By the 
faith that he ought unto him in whose service thou art 
entered in, and for the faith ye owe unto the high order of 
knighthood, and for the noble King Arthur's sake, that I 
suppose that made thee knight, that thou help me, and 
suffer me not to be shamed of this knight. When Bors 
heard her say thus he had so much sorrow there he nyst not 
what to do. For if I let my brother be in adventure he 
must be slain, and that would I not for all the earth. And 
if I help not the maid she is shamed for ever, and also she 
shall lose her virginity the which she shall never get again. 
Then lift he up his eyes and said weeping: Fair sweet Lord 
Jesu Christ, whose liege man I am, keep Lionel, my brother, 
that these knights slay him not, and for pity of you, and for 
Mary's sake, I shall succour this maid. 



THE HOLY GRAIL 177 



CHAPTER X 

HOW SIR BORS LEFT TO RESCUE HIS BROTHER, AND 

RESCUED THE DAMOSELJ AND HOW IT WAS 

TOLD HIM THAT LIONEL WAS DEAD 

Then dressed he him unto the knight the which had the 
gentlewoman, and then he cried: Sir knight, let your hand 
off that maiden, or ye be but dead. And then he set down 
the maiden, and was armed at all pieces save he lacked his 
spear. Then he dressed his shield, and drew out his sword, 
and Bors smote him so hard that it went through his shield 
and habergeon on the left shoulder. And through great 
strength he beat him down to the earth, and at the pulling 
out of Bors' spear there he swooned. Then came Bors to 
the maid and said: How seemeth it you? of this knight ye 
be delivered at this time. Now sir, said she, I pray you 
lead me there as this knight had me. So shall I do gladly: 
and took the horse of the wounded knight, and set the 
gentlewoman upon him, and so brought her as she desired. 
Sir knight, said she, ye have better sped than ye weened, 
for an I had lost my maidenhead, five hundred men should 
have died for it. What knight was he that had you in the 
forest? By my faith, said she, he is my cousin. So wot I 
never with what engyn the fiend enchafed him, for yesterday 
he took me from my father privily; for I nor none of my 
father's men mistrusted him not, and if he had had my 
maidenhead he should have died for the sin, and his body 
shamed and dishonoured for ever. Thus as she stood talk- 
ing with him there came twelve knights seeking after her, 
and anon she told them all how Bors had delivered her; 
then they made great joy, and besought him to come to 
her father, a great lord, and he should be right welcome. 
Truly, said Bors, that may not be at this time, for I have a 
great adventure to do in this country. So he commended 
them unto God and departed. Then Sir Bors rode after 
Lionel, his brother, by the trace of their horses, thus he 
rode seeking a great while. Then he overtook a man clothed 
in a religious clothing, and rode on a strong black horse 



178 SIR THOMAS MALORY 

blacker than a bear, and said: Sir knight, what seek you? 
Sir, said he, I seek my brother that I saw within a while 
beaten with two knights. Ah, Bors, discomfort you not, nor 
fall into no wanhope, for I shall tell you tidings such as they 
be, for truly he is dead. Then showed he him a new slain 
body lying in a bush, and it seemed him well that it was 
the body of Lionel; and then he made such a sorrow that 
he fell to the earth all in a swoon, and lay a great while 
there. And when he came to himself he said: Fair brother, 
sith the company of you and me is departed shall I never 
have joy in my heart, and now he which I have taken unto 
my master, He be my help. And when he had said thus 
he took his body lightly in his arms, and put it upon the 
arson of his saddle. And then he said to the man : Canst 
thou tell me unto some chapel where that I may bury this 
body ? Come on, said he, here is one fast by ; and so long 
they rode till they saw a fair tower, and afore it there seemed 
an old feeble chapel. And then they alit both, and put him 
into a tomb of marble. 

CHAPTER XI 

HOW SIR BORS TOLD HIS DREAM TO A PRIEST, WHICH 

HE HAD DREAMED, AND OF THE COUNSEL 

THAT THE PRIEST GAVE TO HIM 

Now leave we him here, said the good man, and go we 
to our harbour till to-morrow ; we will come here again to do 
him service. Sir, said Bors, be ye a priest? Yea forsooth, 
said he. Then I pray you tell me a dream that befell to me 
the last night. Say on, said he. Then he began so much 
to tell him of the great bird in the forest, and after told him 
of his birds, one white, another black, and of the rotten 
tree, and of the white flowers. Sir, I shall tell you a part 
now, and the other dele to-morrow. The white fowl be- 
tokeneth a gentlewoman, fair and rich, which loved thee 
paramours, and hath loved thee long; and if thou warne 
her love she shall go die anon, if thou have no pity on her. 
That signifieth the great bird, the which shall make thee to 
warne her. Now for no fear that thou hast, nor for no 



THE HOLY GRAIL 179 

dread that thou hast of God, thou shalt not warne her, but 
thou wouldst not do it for to be holden chaste, for to con- 
quer the loos of the vain glory of the world; for that shall 
befall thee now an thou warne her, that Launcelot, the good 
knight, thy cousin, shall die. And therefore men shall now 
say that thou art a manslayer, both of thy brother, Sir Lionel, 
and of thy cousin, Sir Launcelot du Lake, the which thou 
mightest have saved and rescued easily, but thou weenest to 
rescue a maid which pertaineth nothing to thee. Now look 
thou whether it had been greater harm of thy brother's 
death, or else to have suffered her to have lost her maiden- 
hood. Then asked he him : Hast thou heard the tokens 
of thy dream the which I have told to you? Yea for- 
sooth, said Sir Bors, all your exposition and declaring of 
my dream I have well understood and heard. Then said 
the man in this black clothing: Then is it in thy default if 
Sir Launcelot, thy cousin, die. Sir, said Bors, that were 
me loth, for wit ye well there is nothing in the world but I 
had lever do it than to see my lord Sir Launcelot du Lake, 
to die in my default. Choose ye now the one or the other, 
said the good man. And then he led Sir Bors into an 
high tower, and there he found knights and ladies : those 
ladies said he was welcome, and so they unarmed him. 
And when he was in his doublet men brought him a mantle 
furred with ermine, and put it about him; and then they 
made him such cheer that he had forgotten all his sorrow 
and anguish, and only set his heart in these delights and 
dainties, and took no thought more for his brother, Sir 
Lionel, neither of Sir Launcelot du Lake, his cousin. And 
anon came out of a chamber to him the fairest lady that 
ever he saw, and more richer bysene than ever he saw 
Queen Guenever or any other estate. Lo, said they, Sir 
Bors, here is the lady unto whom we owe all our service, 
and I trow she be the richest lady and the fairest of all the 
world, and the which loveth you best above all other knights, 
for she will have no knight but you. And when he under- 
stood that language he was abashed. Not for then she 
saluted him, and he her; and then they sat down together 
and spake of many things, in so much that she besought him 
to be her love, for she had loved him above all earthly 



180 SIR THOMAS MALORY 

men, and she should make him richer than ever was man of 
his age. When Bors understood her words he was right 
evil at ease, which in no manner would not break chasity, 
so wist not he how to answer her. 



CHAPTER XII 

HOW A DEVIL IN WOMAN'S LIKENESS WOULD HAVE 

TEMPTED SIR BORS, AND HOW BY GOD'S 

GRACE HE ESCAPED 

Alas, said she, Bors, shall ye not do my will? Madam, 
said Bors, there is no lady in the world whose will I will 
fulfill as of this thing, for my brother lieth dead which was 
slain right late. Ah Bors, said she, I have loved you long 
for the great beauty I have seen in you, and the great 
hardiness that I have heard of you, that needs ye must lie 
by me this night, and therefore I pray you grant it me. 
Truly, said he, I shall not do it in no manner wise. Then 
she made him such sorrow as though she would have died. 
Well Bors, said she, unto this have ye brought me, nigh to 
mine end. And therewith she took him by the hand, and 
bad him behold her. And ye shall see how I shall die for 
your love. Ah, said then he, that shall I never see. Then 
she departed and went up into an high battlement, and led 
with her twelve gentlewomen; and when they were above, 
one of the gentlewomen cried, and said: Ah, Sir Bors, 
gentle knight have mercy on us all, and suffer my lady to 
have her will, and if ye do not we must suffer death with our 
lady, for to fall down off this high tower, and if ye suffer us 
thus to die for so little a thing all ladies and gentlewomen 
will say of you dishonour. Then looked he upward, they 
seemed all ladies of great estate, and richly and well 
bisene. Then had he of them great pity; not for that 
he was uncounselled in himself that lever he had they 
all had lost their souls than he his, and with that they fell 
adown all at once unto the earth. And when he saw that, 
he was all abashed, and had thereof great marvel. With 
that he blessed his body and his visage. And anon he 



THE HOLY GRAIL 181 

heard a great noise and a great cry, as though all the fiends 
of hell had been about him; and therewith he saw neither 
tower nor lady, nor gentlewoman, nor no chapel where he 
brought his brother to. Then held he up both his hands to 
the heaven, and said: Fair Father God, I am grievously 
escaped; and then he took his arms and his horse and rode 
on his way. Then he heard a clock smite on his right 
hand; and thither he came to an Abbey on his right hand, 
closed with high walls, and there was let in. Then they 
supposed that he was one of the quest of the Sangreal, so 
they led him into a chamber and unarmed him. Sirs, said 
Sir Bors, if there be any holy man in this house I pray you 
let me speak with him. Then one of them led him unto 
the Abbot, which was in a Chapel. And then Sir Bors 
saluted him, and he him again. Sir, said Bors, I am a 
knight errant; and told him all the adventure which he had 
seen. Sir Knight, said the Abbot, I wot not what ye be, for 
I weened never that a knight of your age might have been 
so strong in the grace of our Lord Jesu Christ. Not for 
then ye shall go unto your rest, for I will not counsel you 
this day, it is too late, and to-morrow I shall counsel you as 
I can. 

CHAPTER XIII 

OF THE HOLY COMMUNICATION OF AN ABBOT TO SIR BORS, 
AND HOW THE ABBOT COUNSELLED HIM 

And that night was Sir Bors served richly; and on the 
morn early he heard mass, and the Abbot came to him, and 
bad him good morrow, and Bors to him. again. And then 
he told him he was a fellow of the quest of the Sangreal, 
and how he had charge of the holy man to eat bread and 
water. Then said the Abbot: Our Lord Jesu Christ showed 
him unto you in the likeness of a soul that suffered great 
anguish for us, syne He was put upon the cross, and bled 
His heart blood for mankind: there was the token and the 
likeness of the Sangreal that appeared afore you, for the 
blood that the great fowl bled revived the chickens from 
death to life. And by the bare tree is betokened the world 



182 SIR THOMAS MALORY 

which is naked and without fruit but if it come to Our Lord. 
Also the lady for whom ye fought for, and King Aniause 
which was lord there tofore, betokeneth Jesu Christ which 
is the King of the world. And that ye fought with the 
champion for the lady, this it betokeneth : for when ye took 
the battle for the lady, by her shall ye understand the new 
law of Jesu Christ and Holy Church ; and by the other lady 
ye shall understand the old law and the fiend, which all day 
warreth against Holy Church, therefore ye did your battle 
with right. For ye be Jesu Christ's knights, therefore ye 
ought to be defenders of Holy Church. And by the black 
bird might ye understand Holy Church, which sayeth I am 
black, but he is fair. And by the white bird might men 
understand the fiend, and I shall tell you how the swan is 
white without forth, and black within : it is hypocrisy which 
is without yellow or pale, and seemeth without forth the 
servants of Jesu Christ, but they be within so horrible of 
filth and sin, and beguile the world evil. Also when the 
fiend appeared to thee in likeness of a man of religion, and 
blamed thee that thou left thy brother for a lady, so led thee 
where thou seemed thy brother was slain, but he is yet 
on live ; and all was for to put thee in error, and bring thee 
unto wanhope and lechery, for he knew thou were tender 
hearted, and all was for thou shouldst not find the blessed 
adventure of the Sangreal. And the third fowl betokeneth 
the strong battle against the fair ladies which were all devils. 
Also the dry tree and the white lily : the dry tree betokeneth 
thy brother Lionel, which is dry without virtue, and there- 
fore many men ought to call him the rotten tree, and the 
wormeaten tree, for he is a murderer and doth contrary 
to the order of knighthood. And the two white flowers 
signify two maidens, the one is a knight which was wounded 
the other day, and the other is the gentlewoman which ye 
rescued ; and why the other flower drew nigh the other, that 
was the knight which would have befouled her and himself 
both. And Sir Bors, ye had been a great fool and in great 
peril for to have seen those two flowers perish for to succour 
the rotten tree, for and they had sinned together they had 
been damned; and for that ye rescued them both, men might 
call you a very knight and servant of Jesu Christ. 



THE HOLY GRAIL 183 

CHAPTER XIV 

HOW SIR BORS MET WITH HIS BROTHER SIR LIONEL, AND 
HOW SIR LIONEL WOULD HAVE SLAIN SIR BORS 

Then went Sir Bors from thence and commended the abbot 
unto God. And then he rode all that day, and harboured 
with an old lady. And on the morn he rode to a castle in a 
valley, and there he met with a yeoman going a great pace 
toward a forest. Say me, said Sir Bors, canst thou tell me 
of any adventure? Sir, said he, here shall be under this 
castle a great and a marvellous tournament. Of what folks 
shall it be? said Sir Bors. The Earl of Plains shall be in 
the one party, and the lady's nephew of Hervin on the other 
party. Then Bors thought to be there if he might meet 
with his brother Sir Lionel, or any other of his fellowship, 
which were in the quest of the Sangreal. And then he 
turned to an hermitage that was in the entry of the forest. 
And when he was come thither he found there Sir Lionel, 
his brother, which sat all armed at the entry of the chapel 
door for to abide there harbour till on the morn that the 
tournament shall be. And when Sir Bors saw him he 
had great joy of him, that it were marvel to tell of his joy. 
And then he alit off his horse, and said : Fair sweet brother, 
when came ye hither? Anon as Lionel saw him he said: 
Ah Bors, ye may not make none avaunt, but as for you I 
might have been slain ; when ye saw two knights leading me 
away beating me, ye left me for to succour a gentlewoman, 
and suffered me in peril of death; for never erst ne did no 
brother to another so great an untruth. And for that mis- 
deed now I ensure you but death, for well have ye deserved 
it; therefore keep thee from henceforward, and that shall ye 
find as soon as I am armed. When Sir Bors understood his 
brother's wrath he kneeled down to the earth and cried him 
mercy, holding up both his hands, and prayed him to for- 
give him his evil will. Nay, said Lionel, that shall never be 
an I may have the higher hand, that I make mine avow to 
God, thou shalt have death for it, for it were pity ye lived 
any longer. Right so he went in and took his harness, and 

(l) hc xxxv 



184 SIR THOMAS MALORY 

mounted upon his horse, and came tofore him and said: 
Bors, keep thee from me, for I shall do to thee as I would 
to a felon or a traitor, for ye be the untruest knight that 
ever came out of so worthy an house as was King Bors' de 
Ganis which was our father, therefore start upon thy horse, 
and so shall ye be most at your advantage. And but if ye 
will I will run upon you there as ye stand upon foot, and 
so the shame shall be mine and the harm yours, but of that 
shame ne reck I nought. When Sir Bors saw that he must 
fight with his brother or else to die, he nist what to do ; then 
his heart counselled him not thereto, inasmuch as Lionel was 
born or he, wherefore he ought to bear him reverence; yet 
kneeled he down afore Lionel's horse's feet, and said: Fair 
sweet brother, have mercy upon me and slay me not, and 
have in remembrance the great love which ought to be be- 
tween us twain. What Sir Bors said to Lionel he recked not, 
for the fiend had brought him in such a will that he should 
slay him. Then when Lionel saw he would none other, and 
that he would not have risen to give him battle, he rushed 
over him so that he smote Bors with his horse, feet upward 
to the earth, and hurt him so sore that he swooned of distress, 
the which he felt in himself to have died without confession. 
So when Lionel saw this, he alit off his horse to have smitten 
off his head. And so he took him by the helm, and would 
have rent it from his head. Then came the hermit running 
unto him, which was a good man and of great age, and well 
had heard all the words that were between them, and so fell 
down upon Sir Bors. 

CHAPTER XV 

HOW SIR COLGREVANCE FOUGHT AGAINST SIR LIONEL FOR 
TO SAVE SIR BORS, AND HOW THE HERMIT WAS SLAIN 

Then he said to Lionel: Ah gentle knight, have mercy 
upon me and on thy brother, for if thou slay him thou shalt 
be dead of sin, and that were sorrowful, for he is one of the 
worthiest knights of the world, and of the best conditions. 
So God help me, said Lionel, sir priest, but if ye flee from 
him I shall slay you, and he shall never the sooner be quit. 



THE HOLY GRAIL 185 

Certes, said the good man, I have lever ye slay me than him, 
for my death shall not be great harm, not half so much 
as of his. Well, said Lionel, I am agreed; and set his 
hand to his sword and smote him so hard that his head yede 
backward. Not for that he restrained him of his evil will, 
but took his brother by the helm, and unlaced it to have 
stricken off his head, and had slain him without fail. But 
so it happed, Colgrevance, a fellow of the Round Table, 
came at that time thither as Our Lord's will was. And 
when he saw the good man slain he marvelled much what 
it might be. And then he beheld Lionel would have slain his 
brother, and knew Sir Bors which he loved right well. Then 
start he down and took Lionel by the shoulders, and drew 
him strongly aback from Bors, and said : Lionel, will ye slay 
your brother, the worthiest knight of the world one? and 
that should no good man suffer. Why, said Lionel, will 
ye let me? therefore if ye intermit you in this I shall slay 
you, and him after. Why, said Colgrevance, is this sooth 
that ye will slay him? Slay him will I, said he, whoso say 
the contrary, for he hath done so much against me that he 
hath well deserved it. And so ran upon hirn, and would 
have smitten him through the head, and Sir Colgrevance ran 
betwixt them, and said: An ye be so hardy to do so more, 
we two shall meddle together. When Lionel understood his 
words he took his shield afore him, and asked him what that 
he was. And he told him, Colgrevance, one of his fellows. 
Then Lionel defied him, and gave him a great stroke 
through the helm. Then he drew his sword, for he was a 
passing good knight, and defended him right manfully. 
So long dured the battle that Bors rose up all anguishly, 
and beheld Colgrevance, the good knight, fought with his 
brother for his quarrel; then was he full sorry and heavy, 
and thought if Colgrevance slay him that was his brother he 
should never have joy; and if his brother slew Colgrevance 
the shame should ever be mine. Then would he have risen 
to have departed them, but he had not so much might to 
stand on foot ; so he abode him so long till Colgrevance had 
the worse, for Lionel was of great chivalry and right hardy, 
for he had pierced the hauberk and the helm, that he abode 
but death, for he had lost much of his blood that it was 



186 SIR THOMAS MALORY 

marvel that he might stand upright. Then beheld he Sir 
Bors which sat dressing him upward and said: Ah, Bors, 
why come ye not to cast me out of peril of death, wherein I 
have put me to succour you which were right now nigh the 
death? Certes, said Lionel, that shall not avail you, for 
none of you shall bear others warrant, but that ye shall die 
both of my hand. When Bors heard that, he did so much, 
he rose and put on his helm. Then perceived he first the 
hermit priest which was slain, then made he a marvellous 
sorrow upon him. 

CHAPTER XVI 

HOW SIR LIONEL SLEW SIR COLGREVANCE, AND HOW 
AFTER HE WOULD HAVE SLAIN SIR BORS 

Then often Colgrevance cried upon Sir Bors: Why will 
ye let me die here for your sake ? if it please you that I die 
for you the death, it will please me the better for to save a 
worthy man. With that word Sir Lionel smote off the 
helm from his head. Then Colgrevance saw that he might 
not escape; then he said: Fair sweet Tesu, that I have 
misdone have mercy upon my souk for such sorrow that 
my heart suffereth for goodness, and for alms deed that I 
would have done here, be to me alygement of penance 
unto my soul's health. At these words Lionel smote him 
so sore that he bare him to the earth. So he had slain 
Colgrevance he ran upon his brother as a fiendly man, and 
gave him such a stroke that he made him stoop. And he 
that was full of humility prayed him for God's love to leave 
this battle: For an it befel, fair brother, that I slew you or 
ye me, we should be dead of that sin. Never God me 
help but if I have on you mercy, and I may have the better 
hand. Then drew Bors his sword, all weeping, and said: 
Fair brother, God knoweth mine intent. Ah, fair brother, 
ye have done full evil this day to slay such an holy priest 
the which never trespassed. Also ye have slain a gentle 
knight, and one of our fellows. And well wot ye that I 
am not afeared of you greatly, but I dread the wrath of 
God, and this is an unkindly war, therefore God show miracle 



THE HOLY GRAIL 187 

upon us both. Now God have mercy upon me though I 
defend my life against my brother ; with that Bors lift up his 
hand and would have smitten his brother. 



CHAPTER XVII 

HOW THERE CAME A VOICE WHICH CHARGED SIR BORS 

TO TOUCH HIM NOT, AND OF A CLOUD 

THAT CAME BETWEEN THEM 

And then he heard a voice that said: Flee Bors, and 
touch him not, or else thou shall slay him. Right so alit a 
cloud betwixt them in likeness of a fire and a marvellous 
flame, that both their two shields burnt. Then were they 
sore afraid, that they fell both to the earth, and lay there a 
great while in a swoon. And when they came to themself, 
Bors saw that his brother had no harm; then he held up 
both his hands, for he dread God had taken vengeance upon 
him. With that he heard a voice say: Bors, go hence, and 
bear thy brother no longer fellowship, but take thy way 
anon right to the sea, for Sir Percivale abideth thee there. 
Then he said to his brother: Fair sweet brother, forgive 
me for God's love all that I have trespassed unto you. 
Then he answered: God forgive it thee and I do gladly. 
So Sir Bors departed from him and rode the next way to 
the sea. And at the last by fortune he came to an Abbey 
which was nigh the sea. That night Bors rested him there; 
and in his sleep there came a voice to him and bad him go 
to the sea. Then he start up and made a sign of the Cross 
in the middes of his forehead, and took his harness, and 
made ready his horse, and mounted upon him; and at a 
broken wall he rode out, and rode so long till that he came 
to the sea. And on the strand he found a ship covered all 
with white samite, and he alit, and betook him to Jesu 
Christ. And as soon as he entered into the ship, the ship 
departed into the sea, and went so fast that him seemed 
the ship went flying, but it was soon dark so that he might 
know no man, and so he slept till it was day. Then he 
awaked, and saw in middes of the ship a knight lie all armed 



188 SIR THOMAS MALORY 

save his helm. Then knew he that it was Sir Percivale of 
Wales, and then he made of him right great joy; but Sir 
Percivale was abashed of him, and he asked him what he 
was. Ah, fair sir, said Bors, know ye me not? Certes, 
said he, I marvel how ye came hither, but if Our Lord 
brought ye hither Himself. Then Sir Bors smiled and did 
off his helm. Then Percivale knew him, and either made 
great joy of other, that it was marvel to hear. Then Bors 
told him how he came into the ship, and by whose admonish- 
ment ; and either told other of their temptations, as ye have 
heard toforehand. So went they downward in the sea, one 
while backward, another while forward, and every each 
comforted other, and oft were in their prayers. Then said 
Sir Percivale: We lack nothing but Galahad, the good 
knight. 

And thus endeth the syxteenth book, whiche is of 

syre Gawayne, Ector de marys, and syre 

Bors de ganys, and sir Percyval. 

And here foloweth the sevententh book, whiche 

is of the noble Knyghte syre Galahad. 



THE SEVENTEENTH BOOK 



CHAPTER I 

HOW SIR GALAHAD FOUGHT AT A TOURNAMENT, AND 

HOW HE WAS KNOWN OF SIR GAWAINE 

AND SIR ECTOR DE MARIS 

NOW saith this story, when Galahad had rescued Perci- 
vale from the twenty knights, he yede then into a waste 
forest wherein he rode many journeys; and he found 
many adventures the which he brought to an end, whereof the 
story maketh here no mention. Then he took his way to 
the sea on a day, and it befel as he passed by a castle 
where was a wonder tournament, but they without had 



THE HOLY GRAIL 189 

done so much that they within were put to the worse, yet 
were they within good knights enough. When Galahad 
saw that those within were at so great a mischief that men 
slew them at the entry of the castle, then he thought to 
help them, and put a spear forth and smote the first that 
he fell to the earth, and the spear brake to pieces. Then 
he drew his sword and smote there as they were thickest, 
and so he did wonderful deeds of arms that all they marvelled. 
Then it happed that Gawaine and Sir Ector de Maris were 
with the knights without. But when they espied the white 
shield with the red cross the one said to the other: Yonder 
is the good knight, Sir Galahad, the haut prince: now he 
should be a great fool which should meet with him to fight. 
So by adventure he came by Sir Gawaine, and he smote 
him so hard that he clave his helm and the coiffe of iron 
unto his head, so that Gawaine fell to the earth; but the 
stroke was so great that it slanted down to the earth and 
carved the horse's shoulder in two. When Ector saw 
Gawaine down he drew him aside, and thought it no 
wisdom for to abide him, and also for natural love, that he 
was his uncle. Thus through his great hardiness he beat 
aback all the knights without. And then they within came 
out and chased them all about. But when Galahad saw 
there would none turn again he stole away privily so that 
none wist where he was become. Now by my head, said 
Gawaine to Ector, now are the wonders true that were said 
of Launcelot du Lake, that the sword which stuck in the 
stone should give me such a buffet that I would not have 
it for the best castle in this world; and soothly now it is 
proved true, for never ere had I such a stroke of man's 
hand. Sir, said Ector, meseemeth your quest is done. 
And yours is not done, said Gawaine, but mine is done, I 
shall seek no further. Then Gawaine was borne into a castle 
and unarmed him, and laid him in a rich bed, and a leech 
found that he might live, and to be whole within a month. 
Thus Gawaine and Ector abode together, for Sir Ector 
would not away till Gawaine were whole. And the good 
knight, Galahad, rode so long till he came that night to 
the Castle of Carboneck; and it befel him thus that he 
was benighted in an hermitage. So the good man was fain 



190 SIR THOMAS MALORY 

when he saw he was a knight errant. Then when they were 
at rest there came a gentlewoman knocking at the door, 
and called Galahad, and so the good man came to the door 
to wit what she would. Then she called the hermit: Sir 
Ulfin, I am a gentlewoman that would speak with the knight 
which is with you. Then the good man awaked Galahad, 
and bad him: Arise, and speak with a gentlewoman that 
seemeth hath great need of you. Then Galahad went to her 
and asked her what she would. Galahad, said she, I will 
that ye arm you, and mount upon your horse and follow me, 
for I shall show you within these three days the highest 
adventure that ever any knight saw. Anon Galahad armed 
him, and took his horse, and commended him to God, and 
bad the gentlewoman go, and he would follow there as 
she liked. 

CHAPTER II 

HOW SIR GALAHAD RODE WITH A DAMOSEL, AND CAME 

TO THE SHIP WHEREAS SIR BORS AND 

SIR PERCIVALE WERE IN 

So she rode as fast as her palfrey might bear her, till that 
she came to the sea, the which was called Collibe. And at 
the night they came unto a castle in a valley, closed with a 
running water, and with strong walls and high ; and so she 
entered into the castle with Galahad, and there had he 
great cheer, for the lady of that castle was the damosel's 
lady. So when he was unarmed, then said the damosel : 
Madam, shall we abide here all this day? Nay, said she, 
but till he hath dined and till he hath slept a little. So he 
ate and slept a while till that the maid called him, and 
armed him by torchlight. And when the maid was horsed 
and he both, the lady took Galahad a fair child and rich; 
and so they departed from the castle till they came to the 
seaside ; and there they found the ship where Bors and 
Percivale were in, the which cried on the ship's board : Sir 
Galahad, ye be welcome, we have abiden you long. And 
when he heard them he asked them what they were. Sir, 
said she, leave your horse here, and I shall leave mine; 



THE HOLY GRAIL 191 

and took their saddles and their bridles with them, and 
made a cross on them, and so entered into the ship. And 
the two knights received them both with great joy, and 
every each knew other; and so the wind arose, and drove 
them through the sea in a marvellous place. And within a 
while it dawned. Then did Galahad off his helm and his 
sword, and asked of his fellows from whence came that fair 
ship. Truly, said they, ye wot as well as we but of God's 
grace; and then they told every each to other of all their 
hard adventures, and of their great temptations. Truly, 
said Galahad, ye are much bounden to God, for ye have 
escaped great adventures; and had not the gentlewoman 
been I had not come here, for as for you I weened never 
to have found you in these strange countries. Ah Galahad, 
said Bors, if Launcelot, your father, were here then were we 
well at ease, for then meseemed we failed nothing. That 
may not be, said Galahad, but if it pleased Our Lord. By 
then the ship went from the land of Logris, and by 
adventure it arrived up betwixt two rocks passing great and 
marvellous; but there they might not land, for there was a 
swallow of the sea, save there was another ship, and upon 
it they might go without danger. Go we thither, said the 
gentlewoman, and there shall we see adventures, for so is 
Our Lord's will. And when they came thither they found 
the ship rich enough, but they found neither man nor 
woman therein. But they found in the end of the ship 
two fair letters written, which said a dreadful word and a 
marvellous: Thou man, which shall enter into this ship, 
beware tbou be in steadfast belief, for I am Faith, and 
therefore beware how thou enterest, for an thou fail I 
shall not help thee. Then said the gentlewoman : Percivale, 
wot ye what I am? Certes, said he, nay, to my witing. 
Wit ye well, said she, that I am thy sister, which am 
daughter of King Pellinore, and therefore wit ye well ye 
are the man in the world that I most love; and if ye 
be not in perfect belief of Jesu Christ enter not in no 
manner of wise, for then should ye perish the ship, for he 
is so perfect he will suffer no sinner in him. When 
Percivale understood that she was his very sister he was 
inwardly glad, and said: Fair sister, I shall enter there- 



192 SIR THOMAS MALORY 

in, for if I be a miscreature or an untrue knight there 
shall I perish. 

CHAPTER III 

HOW SIR GALAHAD ENTERED INTO THE SHIP, AND OF A 

FAIR BED THEREIN, WITH OTHER MARVELLOUS 

THINGS, AND OF A SWORD 

In the meanwhile Galahad blessed him, and entered 
therein; and then next the gentlewoman, and then Sir 
Bors and Sir Percivale. And when they were in, it was so 
marvellous fair and rich that they marvelled; and in middes 
of the ship was a fair bed, and Galahad went thereto, and 
found there a crown of silk. And at the feet was a sword, 
rich and fair, and it was drawn out of the sheath half a foot 
and more; and the sword was of divers fashions, and the 
pommel was of stone, and there was in him all manner of 
colours that any man might find, and every each of the 
colours had divers virtues; and the scales of the haft were 
of two ribs of divers beasts, the one beast was a serpent 
which was conversant in Calidone, and is called the serpent 
of the fiend; and the bone of him is of such a virtue that 
there is no hand that handleth him shall never be w^ary 
nor hurt. And the other beast is a fish which is not right 
great, and haunteth the flood of Euphrates; and that fish is 
called Ertanax, and his bones be of such a manner of kind 
that who that handleth them shall have so much will that 
he shall never be weary, and he shall not think on joy nor 
sorrow that he hath had, but only that thing that he be- 
holdeth before him. And as for this sword there shall 
never man begrip him at the handles but one, but he 
shall pass all other. In the name of God, said Percivale, I 
shall essay to handle it. So he set his hand to the sword, 
but he might not begrip it. By my faith, said he, now 
have I failed. Bors set his hand thereto and failed. Then 
Galahad beheld the sword and saw letters like blood that 
said: Let see who shall essay to draw me out of my sheath, 
but if he be more hardier than any other; and who that 
draweth me, wit ye well he shall never fail of shame 



THE HOLY GRAIL 193 

of his body, or to be wounded to the death. By my faith, 
said Galahad, I would draw this sword out of the sheath, 
but the offending is so great that I shall not set my hand 
thereto. Now sirs, said the gentlewoman, wit ye well that 
the drawing of this sword is warned to all men save all only 
to you. Also this ship arrived in the realm of Logris; and 
that time was deadly war between King Labor, which was 
father unto the maimed king, and King Hurlame, which 
was a Saracen. But then was he newly christened, so that 
men held him afterward one of the wyttyest men of the 
world. And so upon a day it befel that King Labor and 
King Hurlame had assembled their folk upon the sea where 
this ship was arrived; and there King Hurlame was dis- 
comfit, and his men slain; and he was afeard to be dead, 
and fled to his ship, and there found this sword and drew 
it, and came out and found King Labor, the man in the 
world of all Christendom in whom was then the greatest 
faith. And when King Hurlame saw King Labor he 
dressed this sword, and smote him upon the helm so hard 
that he clave him and his horse to the earth with the 
first stroke of his sword. And it was in the realm of Logris ; 
and so befel great pestilence and great harm to both realms. 
For sithen increased neither corn, nor grass, nor well-nigh 
no fruit, nor in the water was no fish; wherefore men call 
it the lands of the two marches, the waste land, for that 
dolorous stroke. And when King Hurlame saw this sword 
so carving, he turned again to fetch the scabbard, and so 
came into this ship and entered, and put up the sword in the 
sheath. And as soon as he had done it he fell down dead 
afore the bed. Thus was the sword proved, that none ne 
drew it but he were dead or maimed. So lay he there till a 
maiden came into the ship and cast him out, for there was 
no man so hardy of the world to enter into that ship for 
the defence. 



194 SIR THOMAS MALORY 

CHAPTER IV 

OF THE MARVELS OF THE SWORD AND OF THE SCABBARD 

And then beheld they the scabbard, it seemed to be of 
a serpent's skin, and thereon were letters of gold and silver. 
And the girdle was but poorly to come to, and not able 
to sustain such a rich sword. And the letters said: He 
which shall wield me ought to be more harder than any 
other, if he bear me as truly as me ought to be borne. For 
the body of him which I ought to hang by, he shall not be 
shamed in no place while he is girt with this girdle, nor 
never none be so hardy to do away this girdle; for it ought 
not to be done away but by the hands of a maid, and 
that she be a king's daughter and queen's, and she must be 
a maid all the days of her life, both in will and in deed. 
And if she break her virginity she shall die the most vil- 
lainous death that ever died any woman. Sir, said Per- 
civale, turn this sword that we may see what is on the 
other side. And it was red as blood, with black letters as 
any coal, which said: He that shall praise me most, most 
shall he find me to blame at a great need; and to whom I 
should be most debonair shall I be most felon, and that 
shall be at one time. Fair brother, said she to Percivale, 
it befell after a forty year after the passion of Jesu Christ 
that Nacien, the brother-in-law of King Mordrains, was 
borne into a town more than fourteen days' journey from his 
country, by the commandment of Our Lord, into an isle, 
into the parts of the West, that men clepyd the isle of 
Turnance. So befell it that he found this ship at the entry 
of a rock, and he found the bed and this sword as we have 
heard now. Not for then he had not so much hardiness 
to draw it; and there he dwelled an eight days, and at the 
ninth day there fell a great wind which departed him out 
of the isle, and brought him to another isle by a rock, and 
there he found the greatest giant that ever man might see. 
Therewith came that horrible giant to slay him; and then 
he looked about him and might not flee, and he had nothing 
to defend him with. So he ran to his sword, and when he 



THE HOLY GRAIL 195 

saw it naked he praised it much, and then he shook it, and 
therewith he brake it in the middes. Ah, said Nacien, the 
thing that I most praised ought I now most to blame, and 
therewith he threw the pieces of his sword over his bed. 
And after he leapt over the board to fight with the giant, 
and slew him. And anon he entered into the ship again, 
and the wind arose, and drove him through the sea, that 
by adventure he came to another ship where King Mordrains 
was, which had been tempted full evil with a fiend in the 
port of perilous rock. And when that one saw the other 
they made great joy of other, and either told other of their 
adventure, and how the sword failed him at his most need. 
When Mordrains saw the sword he praised it much: But 
the breaking was not to do but by wickedness of thy self 
ward, for thou art in some sin. And there he took the 
sword, and set the pieces together, and they soldered as 
fair as ever they were tofore; and there put he the sword 
in the sheath, and laid it down on the bed. Then heard 
they a voice that said : Go out of this ship a little while, 
and enter into the other, for dread ye fall in deadly sin, for 
and ye be found in deadly sin ye may not escape but perish: 
and so they went into the other ship. And as Nacien 
went over the board he was smitten with a sword on the 
right foot, that he fell down noseling to the ship's board; 
and therewith he said: O God, how am I hurt. And 
then there came a voice and said: Take thou that for thy 
forfeit that thou didst in drawing of this sword, therefore 
thou receivest a wound, for thou were never worthy to 
handle it, as the writing maketh mention. In the name of 
God, said Galahad, ye are right wise of these works. 



CHAPTER V 

HOW KING PELLES WAS SMITTEN THROUGH BOTH 

THIGHS BECAUSE HE DREW THE SWORD, AND 

OTHER MARVELLOUS HISTORIES 

Sir, said she, there was a king that hight Pelles, the 
maimed king. And while he might ride he supported much 



196 SIR THOMAS MALORY 

Christendom and Holy Church. So upon a day he hunted 
in a wood of his which lasted unto the sea; and at the last 
he lost his hounds and his knights save only one: and there 
he and his knight went till that they came toward Ireland, 
and there he found the ship. And when he saw the letters 
and understood them, yet he entered, for he was right 
perfect of his life, but his knight had none hardiness to 
enter; and there found he this sword, and he drew it out as 
much as ye may see. So therewith entered a spear where- 
with he was smitten him through both the thighs, and never 
sith might he be healed, nor nought shall tofore we come to 
him. Thus, said she, was not King Pelles, your grandsire, 
maimed for his hardiness? In the name of God, damosel, 
said Galahad. So they went toward the bed to behold all 
about it, and above the head there hung two swords. Also 
there were two spindles which were as white as any snow, 
and other that were as red as blood, and other above green 
as any emerald: of these three colours were the spindles, 
and of natural colour within, and without any painting. 
These spindles, said the damosel, were when sinful Eve 
came to gather fruit, for which Adam and she were put out 
of paradise, she took with her the bough on which the 
apple hung on. Then perceived she that the branch was 
fair and green, and she remembered her the loss which 
came from the tree. Then she thought to keep the branch 
as long as she might. And for she had no coffer to keep it 
in, she put it in the earth. So by the will of Our Lord the 
branch grew to a great tree within a little while, and was as 
white as any snow, branches, boughs, and leaves: that was 
a token a maiden planted it. But after God came to Adam, 
and bad him know his wife fleshly as nature required. So 
lay Adam with his wife under the same tree; and anon the 
tree which was white was full green as any grass, and all 
that came out of it; and in the same time that they medled 
together there was Abel begotten: thus was the tree long 
of green colour. And so it befell many days after, under 
the same tree Cain slew Abel, whereof befel great marvel. 
For anon as Abel had received the death under the green 
tree, it lost the green colour and became red; and that was 
in tokening of the blood. And anon all the plants died 



THE HOLY GRAIL 197 

thereof, but the tree grew and waxed marvellously fair, and 
it was the fairest tree and the most delectable that any man 
might behold and see; and so died the plants that grew out 
of it tofore that Abel was slain under it. So long dured the 
tree till that Solomon, King David's son, reigned, and held 
the land after his father. This Solomon was wise, and knew 
all the virtues of stones and trees, and so he knew the course 
of the stars, and many other divers things. This Solomon 
had an evil wife, wherethrough he weened that there had 
been no good women, and so he despised them in his books. 
So answered a voice him once: Solomon, if heaviness come 
to a man by a woman, ne reck thou never; for yet shall 
there come a woman whereof there shall come greater joy to 
man an hundred times more than this heaviness giveth 
sorrow ; and that woman shall be born of thy lineage. Then 
when Solomon heard these words he held himself but a 
fool, and the truth he perceived by old books. Also the 
Holy Ghost showed him the coming of the glorious Virgin 
Mary. Then asked he of the voice, if it should be in the 
yerde of his lineage. Nay, said the voice, but there shall 
come a man which shall be a maid, and the last of your 
blood, and he shall be as good a knight as Duke Josua, thy 
brother-in-law. 

CHAPTER VI 

HOW SOLOMON TOOK DAVID'S SWORD BY THE COUNSEL OF 
HIS WIFE, AND OF OTHER MATTERS MARVELLOUS 

Now have I certified thee of that thou stoodest in doubt. 
Then was Solomon glad that there should come any such of 
his lineage; but ever he marvelled and studied who that 
should be, and what his name might be. His wife perceived 
that he studied, and thought she would know it at some 
season; and so she waited her time, and asked of him the 
cause of his studying, and there he told her all together how 
the voice told him. Well, said she, I shall let make a ship 
of the best wood and most durable that men may find. So 
Solomon sent for all the carpenters of the land, and the best. 
And when they had made the ship the lady said to Solomon : 



198 SIR THOMAS MALORY 

Sir, said she, syne it is so that this knight ought to pass all 
knights of chivalry which have been tofore him and shall 
come after him, moreover I shall tell you, said she, ye shall 
go into Our Lord's temple, where is King David's sword, 
your father, the which is the marvelloust and the sharpest 
that ever was taken in any knight's hand. Therefore take 
that, and take off the pommel, and thereto make ye a pommel 
of precious stones, that it be so subtilely made that no man 
perceive it but that they be all one; and after make there 
an hilt so marvellously and wonderly that no man may know 
it; and after make a marvellous sheath. And when ye have 
made all this I shall let make a girdle thereto such as 
shall please me. All this King Solomon did let make as 
she devised, both the ship and all the remnant. And when 
the ship was ready in the sea to sail, the lady let make a 
great bed and marvellous rich, and set her upon the bed's 
head, covered with silk, and laid the sword at the feet, and 
the girdles were of hemp, and therewith the king was angry. 
Sir, wit ye well, said she, that I have none so high a thing 
which were worthy to sustain so high a sword, and a maid 
shall bring other knights thereto, but I wot not when it 
shall be, nor what time. And there she let make a covering 
to the ship, of cloth of silk that should never rot for no 
manner of weather. Yet went that lady and made a car- 
penter to come to the tree which Abel was slain under. 
Now, said she, carve me out of this tree as much wood as 
will make me a spindle. Ah madam, said he, this is the 
tree the which our first mother planted. Do it, said she, or 
else I shall destroy thee. Anon as he began to work there 
came out drops of blood: and then would he have left, but 
she would not suffer him, and so he took away as much 
wood as might make a spindle : and so she made him to 
take as much of the green tree and of the white tree. And 
when these three spindles were shapen she made them to be 
fastened upon the selar of the bed. When Solomon saw 
this, he said to his wife: Ye have done marvellously, for 
though all the world were here right now, he could not 
devise wherefore all this was made, but Our Lord Himself; 
and thou that hast done it wotest not what it shall betoken. 
Now let it be, said she, for ye shall hear tfclings sooner than 



THE HOLY GRAIL 199 

ye ween. Now shall ye hear a wonderful tale of King 
Solomon and his wife. 

CHAPTER VII 

A WONDERFUL TALE OF KING SOLOMON AND HIS WIFE 

That night lay Solomon before the ship with little fellow- 
ship. And when he was on sleep him thought there come 
from heaven a great company of angels, and alit into the 
ship, and took water which was brought by an angel, in a 
vessel of silver, and sprente all the ship. And after he came 
to the sword, and drew letters on the hilt. And after went 
to the ship's board, and wrote there other letters which 
said : Thou man that wilt enter within me, beware that thou 
be full within the faith, for I ne am but Faith and Belief. 
When Solomon espied these letters he was abashed, so that 
he durst not enter, and so drew him aback; and the ship 
was anon shoven in the sea, and he went so fast that he 
lost sight of him within a little while. And then a little 
voice said: Solomon, the last knight of thy lineage shall 
rest in this bed. Then went Solomon and awaked his wife, 
and told her of the adventures of the ship. Now saith the 
history that a great while the three fellows beheld the bed 
and the three spindles. Then they were at certain that 
they were of natural colours without painting. Then they 
lift up a cloth which was above the ground, and there found 
a rich purse by seeming. And Percivale took it, and found 
therein a writ and so he read it, and devised the manner of 
the spindles and of the ship, whence it came, and by whom 
it was made. Now, said Galahad, where shall we find the 
gentlewoman that shall make new girdles to the sword? 
Fair sir, said Percivale's sister, dismay you not, for by the 
leave of God I shall let make a girdle to the sword, such 
one as shall long thereto. And then she opened a box, and 
took out girdles which were seemly wrought with golden 
threads, and upon that were set full precious stones, and a 
rich buckle of gold. Lo, lords, said she, here is a girdle 
that ought to be set about the sword. And wit ye well the 
greatest part of this girdle was made of my hair, which I 

(m) hc xxxv 



200 SIR THOMAS MALORY 

loved well while that I was a woman of the world. But as 
soon as I wist that this adventure was ordained me I clipped 
off my hair, and made this girdle in the name of God. Ye 
be well found, said Sir Bors, for certes ye have put us out 
of great pain, wherein we should have entered ne had your 
tidings been. Then went the gentlewoman and set it on 
the girdle of the sword. Now, said the fellowship, what is 
the name of the sword, and what shall we call it? Truly, 
said she, the name of the sword is the Sword with the strange 
girdles; and the sheath, mover of blood; for no man that 
hath blood in him ne shall never see the one part of the 
sheath which was made of the tree of life. Then they said 
to Galahad : In the name of Jesu Christ, and pray you that 
ye gird you with this sword which hath been desired so 
much in the realm of Logris. Now let me begin, said 
Galahad, to grip this sword for to give you courage; but 
wit ye well it longeth no more to me than it doth to you. 
And then he gripped about it with his fingers a great deal ; 
and then she girt him about the middle with the sword. 
Now reck I not though I die, for now I hold me one of the 
blessed maidens of the world, which hath made the worthiest 
knight of the world. Damosel, said Galahad, ye have done 
so much that I shall be your knight all the days of my life. 
Then they went from that ship, and went to the other. 
And anon the wind drove them into the sea a great pace, 
but they had no victuals: but it befell that they came on 
the morn to a castle that men call Carteloise, that was in 
the marches of Scotland. And when they had passed the 
port, the gentlewoman said: Lords, here be men arriven 
that, an they wist that ye were of King Arthur's court, ye 
should be assailed anon. Damosel, said Galahad, He that 
cast us out of the rock shall deliver us from them. 



THE HOLY GRAIL 201 



CHAPTER VIII 

HOW GALAHAD AND HIS FELLOWS CAME TO A CASTLE, 

AND HOW THEY WERE FOUGHT WITHAL, AND 

HOW THEY SLEW THEIR ADVERSARIES, 

AND OTHER MATTERS 

So it befell as they spoke thus there came a squire by them, 
and asked what they were; and they said they were of King 
Arthur's house. Is that sooth? said he. Now by my head, 
said he, ye be ill arrayed; and then turned he again unto the 
cliff fortress. And within a while they heard an horn blow. 
Then a gentlewoman came to them, and asked them of 
whence they were; and they told her. Fair lords, said she, 
for God's love turn again if ye may, for ye be come unto your 
death. Nay, they said, we will not turn again, for He shall 
help us in whose service we be entered in. Then as they 
stood talking there came knights well armed, and bad them 
yield them or else die. That yielding, said they, shall be 
noyous to you. And therewith they let their horses run, and 
Sir Percivale smote the foremost to the earth, and took his 
horse, and mounted thereupon, and the same did Galahad. 
Also Bors served another so, for they had no horses in that 
country, for they left their horses when they took their ship 
in other countries. And so when they were horsed then 
began they to set upon them ; and they of the castle fled 
into the strong fortress, and the three knights after them into 
the castle, and so alit on foot, and with their swords slew 
them down, and gat into the hall. Then when they beheld 
the great multitude of people that they had slain, they held 
themself great sinners. Certes, said Bors, I ween an God had 
loved them that we should not have had power to have slain 
them thus. But they have done so much against Our Lord 
that He would not suffer them to reign no longer. Say ye 
not so, said Galahad, for if they misdid against God, the 
vengeance is not ours, but to Him which hath power thereof. 
So came there out of a chamber a good man which was a 
priest, and bare God's body in a cup. And when he saw 
them which lay dead in the hall he was all abashed; and 



202 SIR THOMAS MALORY 

Galahad did off his helm and kneeled down, and so did his 
two fellows. Sir, said they, have ye no dread of us, for we 
be of King Arthur's court. Then asked the good man how 
they were slain so suddenly, and they told it him. Truly, 
said the good man, an ye might live as long as the world 
might endure, ne might ye have done so great an alms deed 
at this. Sir, said Galahad, I repent me much, inasmuch as 
they were christened. Nay, repent you not, said he, for they 
were not christened, and I shall tell you how that I wot of 
this castle. Here was Lord Earl Hernox not but one year, 
and he had three sons, good knights of arms, and a daughter, 
the fairest gentlewoman that men knew. So those three 
knights loved their sister so sore that they brent in love, and 
so they lay by her, maugre her head. And for she cried to 
her father they slew her, and took their father and put him 
in prison, and wounded him nigh to death, but a cousin of 
hers rescued him. And then did they great untruth: they 
slew clerks and priests, and made beat down chapels, that 
Our Lord's service might not be served nor said. And this 
same day her father sent to me for to be confessed and 
houseld; but such shame had never man as I had this day 
with the three brethren, but the earl bad me suffer, for he 
said they should not long endure, for three servants of Our 
Lord should destroy them, and now it is brought to an end. 
And by this may ye wit that Our Lord is not displeased with 
your deeds. Certes, said Galahad, an it had not pleased 
Our Lord, never should we have slain so many men in so 
little a while. And then they brought the Earl Hernox out 
of prison into the middes of the hall, that knew Galahad 
anon, and yet he saw him never afore but by revelation of 
Our Lord. 



THE HOLY GRAIL 203 



CHAPTER IX 

HOW THE THREE KNIGHTS, WITH PERCIVALE's SISTER, 

CAME UNTO THE SAME FOREST, AND OF AN 

HART AND FOUR LIONS, AND 

OTHER THINGS 

Then began he to weep right tenderly, and said : Long 
have I abiden your coming, but for God's love hold me in 
your arms, that my soul may depart out of my body in so 
good a man's arms as ye be. Gladly, said Galahad. And 
then one said on high, that all heard: Galahad, well hast 
thou avenged me on God's enemies. Now behoveth thee 
to go to the maimed king as soon as thou mayest, for he 
shall receive by thee health which he hath abiden so long. 
And therewith the soul departed from the body, and Galahad 
made him to be buried as him ought to be. Right so de- 
parted the three knights, and Percivale's sister with them. 
And so they came into a waste forest, and there they saw 
afore them a white hart which four lions led. Then they 
took them to assent for to follow after for to know whither 
they repaired ; and so they rode after a great pace till that 
they came to a valley, and thereby was an hermitage where a 
good man dwelled, and the hart and the lions entered also. 
So when they saw all this they turned to the chapel, and saw 
the good man in a religious weed and in the armour of Our 
Lord, for he would sing mass of the Holy Ghost; and so 
they entered in and heard mass. And at the secrets of the 
mass they three saw the hart become a man, the which 
marvelled them, and set him upon the altar in a rich siege ; 
and saw the four lions were changed, the one to the form of 
a man, the other to the form of a lion, and the third to an 
eagle, and the fourth was changed unto an ox. Then took 
they their siege where the hart sat, and went out through a 
glass window, and there was nothing perished nor broken ; 
and they heard a voice say: In such a manner entered the 
Son of God in the womb of a maid Mary, whose virginity ne 
was perished ne hurt. And when they heard these words they 
fell down to the earth and were astonied ; and therewith was 



204 SIR THOMAS MALORY 

a great clereness. And when they were come to theirself 
again they went to the good man and prayed him that he 
would say them truth. What thing have ye seen? said he. 
And they told him all that they had seen. Ah lords, said he, 
ye be welcome ; now wot I well ye be the good knights the 
which shall bring the Sangreal to an end; for ye be they 
unto whom Our Lord shall shew great secrets. And well 
ought Our Lord be signified to an hart, for the hart when 
he is old he waxeth young again in his white skin. Right 
so cometh again Our Lord from death to life, for He lost 
earthly flesh that was the deadly flesh, which He had taken 
in the womb of the blessed Virgin Mary ; and for that cause 
appeared Our Lord as a white hart without spot. And the 
four that were with Him is to understand the four evange- 
lists which set in writing a part of Jesu Christ's deeds that 
He did sometime when He was among you an earthly man ; 
for wit ye well never erst ne might no knight know the 
truth, for ofttimes or this Our Lord showed Him unto good 
men and unto good knights, in likeness of an hart, but I 
suppose from henceforth ye shall see no more. And then 
they joyed much, and dwelled there all that day. And upon the 
morrow when they had heard mass they departed and com- 
mended the good man to God: and so they came to a castle 
and passed by. So there came a knight armed after them 
and said: Lords, hark what I shall say to you. 



CHAPTER X 

HOW THEY WERE DESIRED OF A STRANGE CUSTOM, THE 

WHICH THEY WOULD NOT OBEY; AND HOW THEY 

FOUGHT AND SLEW MANY KNIGHTS 

This gentlewoman that ye lead with you is a maid? Sir, 
said she, a maid I am. Then he took her by the bridle and 
said: By the Holy Cross, ye shall not escape me tofore ye 
have yolden the custom of this castle. Let her go, said 
Percivale, ye be not wise, for a maid in what place she 
cometh is free. So in the meanwhile there came out a ten 
or twelve knights armed, out of the castle, and with them 



THE HOLY GRAIL 205 

came gentlewomen which held a dish of silver. And then 
they said: This gentlewoman must yield us the custom of 
this castle. Sir, said a knight, what maid passeth hereby 
shall give this dish full of blood of her right arm. Blame 
have ye, said Galahad, that brought up such customs, and 
so God me save, I ensure you of this gentlewoman ye shall 
fail while that I live. So God me help, said Percivale, I had 
lever be slain. And I also, said Sir Bors. By my troth, 
said the knight, then shall ye die, for ye may not endure 
against us though ye were the best knights of the world. 
Then let them run each to other, and the three fellows beat 
the ten knights, and then set their hands to their swords and 
beat them down and slew them. Then there came out of 
the castle a three score knights armed. Fair lords, said the 
three fellows, have mercy on yourself and have not ado with 
us. Nay, fair lords, said the knights of the castle, we counsel 
you to withdraw you, for ye be the best knights of the world, 
and therefore do no more, for ye have done enough. We 
will let you go with this harm, but we must needs have the 
custom. Certes, said Galahad, for nought speak ye. Well, 
said they, will ye die? We be not yet come thereto, said 
Galahad. Then began they to meddle together, and Galahad, 
with the strange girdles, drew his sword, and smote on the 
right hand and on the left hand, and slew what that ever 
abode him, and did such marvels that there was none that 
saw him but weened he had been none earthly man, but a 
monster. And his two fellows halp him passing well, and so 
they held the journey every each in like hard till it was 
night; then must they needs depart. So came in a 
good knight, and said to the three fellows: If ye will 
come in to-night and take such harbour as here is ye 
shall be right welcome, and we shall ensure you by the 
faith of our bodies, and as we be true knights, to leave 
you in such estate to-morrow as we find you, without any 
falsehood. And as soon as ye know of the custom we dare 
say ye will accord. Therefore for God's love, said the 
gentlewoman, go thither and spare not for me. Go we, 
said Galahad; and so they entered into the chapel. And 
when they were alit they made great joy of them. So 
within a while the three knights asked the custom of the 



206 SIR THOMAS MALORY 

castle and wherefore it was. What it is, said they, we 
will say you sooth. 

CHAPTER XI 

HOW SIR PERCIVALE'S SISTER BLED A DISH FULL OF 

BLOOD FOR TO HEAL A LADY, WHEREFORE 

SHE DIED ; AND HOW THAT THE 

BODY WAS PUT IN A SHIP 

There is in this castle a gentlewoman which we and this 
castle is hers, and many other. So it befell many years 
agone there fell upon her a malady; and when she had lain 
a great while she fell unto a measle, and of no leech she 
could have no remedy. But at the last an old man said an 
she might have a dish full of blood of a maid and a clene 
virgin in will and in work, and a king's daughter, that blood 
should be her health, and for to anoint her withal ; and for 
this thing was this custom made. Now, said Percivale's 
sister, fair knights, I see well that this gentlewoman is but 
dead. Certes, said Galahad, an ye bleed so much ye may 
die. Truly, said she, an I die for to heal her I shall get me 
great worship and soul's health, and worship to my lineage, 
and better is one harm than twain. And therefore there 
shall be no more battle, but tomorn I shall yield you your 
custom of this castle. And then there was great joy more 
than there was tofore, for else had there been mortal war 
upon the morn; notwithstanding she would none other, 
whether they would or nold. That night were the three 
fellows eased with the best ; and on the morn they heard 
mass, and Sir Percivale's sister bad bring forth the sick lady. 
So she was, the which was evil at ease. Then said she: 
Who shall let me blood? So one came forth and let her 
blood, and she bled so much that the dish was full. Then 
she lift up her hand and blessed her; and then she said to 
the lady: Madam, I am come to the death for to make you 
whole, for God's love pray for me. With that she fell in a 
swoon. Then Galahad and his two fellows start up to her, 
and lift her up and staunched her, but she had bled so much 
that she might not live. Then she said when she was 



THE HOLY GRAIL 207 

awaked: Fair brother Percivale, I die for the healing of 
this lady, so I require you that ye bury me not in this 
country, but as soon as I am dead put me in a boat at the 
next haven, and let me go as adventure will lead me ; and 
as soon as ye three come to the City of Sarras, there to 
achieve the Holy Grail, ye shall find me under a tower 
arrived, and there bury me in the spiritual place; for I say 
you so much, there Galahad shall be buried, and ye also, 
in the same place. Then Percivale understood these words, 
and granted it her, weeping. And then said a voice: Lords 
and fellows, to-morrow at the hour of prime ye three shall 
depart every each from other, till the adventure bring you 
to the maimed king. Then asked she her Saviour; and as 
soon as she had received it the soul departed from the body. 
So the same day was the lady healed, when she was anointed 
withal. Then Sir Percivale made a letter of all that she had 
holpen them as in strange adventures, and put it in her 
right hand, and so laid her in a barge, and covered it with 
black silk; and so the wind arose, and drove the barge from 
the land, and all knights beheld it till it was out of their 
sight. Then they drew all to the castle, and so forthwith 
there fell a sudden tempest and a thunder, lightning, and 
rain, as all the earth would have broken. So half the castle 
turned up so down. So it passed evensong or the tempest 
was ceased. Then they saw afore them a knight armed and 
wounded hard in the body and in the head, that said: O 
God, succour me for now it is need. After this knight came 
another knight and a dwarf, which cried to them afar : Stand, 
ye may not escape. Then the wounded knight held up his 
hands to God that he should not die in such tribulation. 
Truly, said Galahad, I shall succour him for His sake that 
he calleth upon. Sir, said Bors, I shall do it, for it is not 
for you, for he is but one knight. Sir, said he, I grant. So 
Sir Bors took his horse, and commended him to God, and 
rode after, to rescue the wounded knight. Now turn we to 
the two fellows. 



208 SIR THOMAS MALORY 



CHAPTER XII 

HOW GALAHAD AND PERCIVALE FOUND IN A CASTLE MANY 
TOMBS OF MAIDENS THAT HAD BLED TO DEATH 

Now saith the story that all night Galahad and Percivale 
were in a chapel in their prayers, for to save Sir Bors. So 
on the morrow they dressed them in their harness toward 
the castle, to wit what was fallen of them therein. And 
when they came there they found neither man nor woman 
that he ne was dead by the vengeance of Our Lord. With 
that they heard a voice that said: This vengeance is for 
blood shedding of maidens. Also they found at the end of 
the chapel a churchyard, and therein might they see a three 
score fair tombs, and that place was so fair and so delectable 
that it seemed them there had been none tempest, for there 
lay the bodies of all the good maidens which were martyred 
for the sick lady's sake. Also they found the names of every 
each, and of what blood they were come, and all were of 
kings' blood, and twelve of them were kings' daughters. 
Then they departed and went into a forest. Now, said 
Percivale unto Galahad, we must depart, so pray we Our 
Lord that we may meet together in short time: then they 
did off their helms and kissed together, and wept at their 
departing. 

CHAPTER XIII 

HOW SIR LAUNCELOT ENTERED INTO THE SHIP WHERE 

SIR PERCIVALE'S SISTER LAY DEAD, AND HOW 

HE MET WITH SIR GALAHAD, HIS SON 

Now saith the history, that when Launcelot was come to 
the water of Mortoise, as it is rehearsed before, he was in 
great peril, and so he laid him down and slept, and took the 
adventure that God would send him. So when he was 
asleep there came a vision unto him and said : Launcelot, 
arise up and take thine armour, and enter into the first ship 
that thou shalt find. And when he heard these words he 



THE HOLY GRAIL 209 

start up and saw great clereness about him. And then he 
lift up his hand and blessed him, and so took his arms and 
made him ready; and so by adventure he came by a strand, 
and found a ship the which was without sail or oar. And as 
soon as he was within the ship there he felt the most sweet- 
ness that ever he felt, and he was fulfilled with all thing 
that he thought on or desired. Then he said: Fair sweet 
Father, Jesu Christ, I wot not in what joy I am, for this joy 
passeth all earthly joys that ever I was in. And so in this 
joy he laid him down to the ship's board, and slept till day. 
And when he awoke he found there a fair bed, and therein 
lying a gentlewoman dead, the which was Sir Percivale's 
sister. And as Launcelot devised her, he espied in her right 
hand a writ, the which he read, the which told him all the 
adventures that ye have heard tofore, and of what lineage 
she was come. So with this gentlewoman Sir Launcelot was 
a month and more. If ye would ask how he lived, He that 
fed the people of Israel with manna in the desert, so was he 
fed; for every day when he had said his prayers he was sus- 
tained with the grace of the Holy Ghost. So on a night he 
went to play him by the water side, for he was somewhat 
weary of the ship. And then he listened and heard an 
horse come, and one riding upon him. And when he came 
nigh he seemed a knight. And so he let him pass, and 
went thereas the ship was; and there he alit, and took the 
saddle and the bridle and put the horse from him, and went 
into the ship. And then Launcelot dressed unto him, and 
said: Ye be welcome. And he answered and saluted him 
again, and asked him: What is your name? for much my 
heart giveth unto you. Truly, said he, my name is Launcelot 
du Lake. Sir, said he, then be ye welcome, for ye were the 
beginning of me in this world. Ah, said he, are ye Galahad? 
Yea, forsooth, said he; and so he kneeled down and asked 
him his blessing, and after took off his helm and kissed him. 
And there was great joy between them, for there is no tongue 
can tell the joy that they made either of other, and many 
a friendly word spoken between, as kin would, the which is 
no need here to be rehearsed. And there every each told 
other of their adventures and marvels that were befallen to 
them in many journeys sith that they departed from the 



210 SIR THOMAS MALORY 

court. Anon, as Galahad saw the gentlewoman dead in the 
bed, he knew her well enough, and told great worship of 
her, that she was the best maid living, and it was great pity 
of her death. But when Launcelot heard how the marvellous 
sword was gotten, and who made it, and all the marvels 
rehearsed afore, then he prayed Galahad, his son, that he 
would show him the sword, and so he did; and anon he 
kissed the pommel, and the hilt, and the scabbard. Truly, 
said Launcelot, never erst knew I of so high adventures 
done, and so marvellous and strange. So dwelt Launcelot 
and Galahad within that ship half a year, and served God 
daily and nightly with all their power ; and often they 
arrived in isles far from folk, where there repaired none but 
wild , beasts, and there they found many strange adventures 
and perillous, which they brought to an end ; but for those 
adventures were with wild beasts, and not in the quest of the 
Sangreal, therefore the tale maketh here no mention thereof, 
for it would be too long to tell of all those adventures that 
befell them. 

CHAPTER XIV 

HOW A KNIGHT BROUGHT UNTO SIR GALAHAD A 

HORSE, AND BAD HIM COME FROM HIS 

FATHER, SIR LAUNCELOT 

So after, on a Monday, it befell that they arrived in 
the edge of a forest tofore a cross ; and then saw they 
a knight armed all in white, and was richly horsed, and 
led in his right hand a white horse; and so he came to 
the ship, and saluted the two knights on the High Lord's 
behalf, and said: Galahad, sir, ye have been long enough 
with your father, come out of the ship, and start upon 
this horse, and go where the adventures shall lead thee 
in the quest of the Sangreal. Then he went to his father 
and kissed him sweetly, and said : Fair sweet father, I wot 
not when I shall see you more till I see the body of Jesu 
Christ. I pray you, said Launcelot, pray ye to the High 
Father that He hold me in His service. And so he took 
his horse, and there they heard a voice that said: Think 



THE HOLY GRAIL 211 

for to do well, for the one shall never see the other be- 
fore the dreadful day of doom. Now, son Galahad, said 
Launcelot, syne we shall depart, and never see other, 
I pray to the High Father to conserve me and you both. 
Sir, said Galahad, no prayer availeth so much as yours. 
And therewith Galahad entered into the forest. And the 
wind arose, and drove Launcelot more than a month through- 
out the sea, where he slept but little, but prayed to God 
that he might see some tidings of the Sangreal. So it 
befell on a night, at midnight, he arrived afore a castle, 
on the back side, which was rich and fair, and there 
was a postern opened toward the sea, and was open without 
any keeping, save two lions kept the entry ; and the moon 
shone clear. Anon Sir Launcelot heard a voice that 
said : Launcelot, go out of this ship and enter into the 
castle, where thou shalt see a great part of thy desire. 
Then he ran to his arms, and so armed him, and so went 
to the gate and saw the lions. Then set he hand to his 
sword and drew it. Then there came a dwarf suddenly, 
and smote him on the arm so sore that the sword fell out 
of his hand. Then heard he a voice say : O man of 
evil faith and poor belief, wherefore trowest thou more on 
thy harness than in thy Maker, for He might more avail 
thee than thine armour, in whose service that thou art 
set. Then said Launcelot: Fair Father Jesu Christ, I thank 
thee of Thy great mercy that Thou reprovest me of my 
misdeed; now see I well that ye hold me for your servant. 
Then took he again his sword and put it up in his sheath, 
and made a cross in his forehead, and came to the lions, 
and they made semblant to do him harm. Notwithstanding 
he passed by them without hurt, and entered into the 
castle to the chief fortress, and there were they all at 
rest. Then Launcelot entered in so armed, for he found 
no gate nor door but it was open. And at the last he 
found a chamber whereof the door was shut, and he set 
his hand thereto to have opened it, but he might not. 



212 SIR THOMAS MALORY 

CHAPTER XV 

HOW SIR LAUNCELOT WAS AFORE THE DOOR OF THE 
CHAMBER WHEREIN THE HOLY SANGREAL WAS 

Then he enforced him mickle to undo the door. Then 
he listened and heard a voice which sang so sweetly that 
it seemed none earthly thing; and him thought the voice 
said : Joy and honour be to the Father of Heaven. Then 
Launcelot kneeled down tofore the chamber, for well wist 
he that there was the Sangreal within that chamber. Then 
said he: Fair sweet Father, Jesu Christ, if ever I did 
thing that pleased Thee, Lord for Thy pity never have me 
not in despite for my sins done aforetime, and that Thou 
show me something of that I seek. And with that he 
saw the chamber door open, and there came out a great 
clereness, that the house was as bright as all the torches 
of the world had been there. So came he to the chamber 
door, and would have entered. And anon a voice said to 
him, Flee, Launcelot, and enter not, for thou oughtest not 
to do it; and if thou enter thou shalt forethink it. Then 
he withdrew him aback right heavy. Then looked he up in 
the middes of the chamber, and saw a table of silver, 
and the holy vessel, covered with red samite, and many 
angels about it, whereof one held a candle of wax burning, 
and the other held a cross., and the ornaments of an altar. 
And before the holy vessel he saw a good man clothed as 
a priest. And it seemed that he was at the sacring of the 
mass. And it seemed to Launcelot that above the priest's 
hands were three men, whereof the two put the youngest 
by likeness between the priest's hands; and so he lift it up 
right high, and it seemed to show so to the people. And then 
Launcelot marvelled not a little, for him thought the priest 
was so greatly charged of the figure that him seemed that 
he should fall to the earth. And when he saw none about 
him that would help him, then came he to the door a 
great pace, and said: Fair Father Jesu Christ, ne take it 
for no sin though I help the good man which hath great 
need of help. Right so entered he into the chamber, and 



THE HOLY GRAIL 213 

came toward the table of silver; and when he came nigh 
he felt a breath, that him thought it was intermeddled with 
fire, which smote him so sore in the visage that him thought 
it brent his visage; and therewith he fell to the earth, and 
had no power to arise, as he that was so araged, that had 
lost the power of his body, and his hearing, and his seeing. 
Then felt he many hands about him, which took him up 
and bare him out of the chamber door, without any amend- 
ing of his swoon, and left him there, seeming dead to 
all people. So upon the morrow when it was fair day 
they within were arisen, and found Launcelot lying afore 
the chamber door. All they marvelled how that he came 
in, and so they looked upon him, and felt his pulse to wit 
whether there were any life in him; and so they found life 
in him, but he might not stand nor stir no member that he 
had. And so they took him by every part of the body, 
and bare him into a chamber, and laid him in a rich bed, 
far from all folk; and so he lay four days. Then the one 
said he was on live, and the other said, Nay. In the name 
of God, said an old man, for I do you verily to wit he is 
not dead, but he is so full of life as the mightiest of you 
all; and therefore I counsel you that he be well kept till 
God send hirn life again. 

CHAPTER XVI 

HOW SIR LAUNCELOT HAD LAIN FOUR AND TWENTY 

DAYS AND AS MANY NIGHTS AS A DEAD MAN, 

AND OTHER DIVERS MATTERS 

In such manner they kept Launcelot four and twenty 
days and all so many nights, that ever he lay still as a dead 
man; and at the twenty-fifth day befell him after midday 
that he opened his eyes. And when he saw folk he made 
great sorrow, and said: Why have ye awaked me, for I 
was more at ease than I am now. O Jesu Christ, who 
might be so blessed that might see openly thy great marvels 
of secretness there where no sinner may be ! What have 
ye seen? said they about him. I have seen, said he, so 
great marvels that no tongue may tell, and more than any 



214 SIR THOMAS MALORY 

heart can think, and had not my son been here afore me 
I had seen much more. Then they told him how he had lain 
there four and twenty days and nights. Then him thought 
it was punishment for the four and twenty years that 
he had been a sinner, wherefore Our Lord put him in pen- 
ance four and twenty days and nights. Then looked 
Sir Launcelot afore him, and saw the hair which 
he had borne nigh a year, for that he forethought him 
right much that he had broken his promise unto the 
hermit, which he had avowed to do. Then they asked 
how it stood with him. For sooth, said he, I am whole 
of body, thanked be Our Lord; therefore, sirs, for God's 
love tell me where I am. Then said they all that he 
was in the castle of Carbonek. Therewith came a gentle- 
woman and brought him a shirt of small linen cloth, but 
he changed not there, but took the hair to him again. 
Sir, said they, the quest of the Sangreal is achieved now 
right in you, that never shall ye see of the Sangreal no 
more than ye have seen. Now I thank God, said Launcelot, 
of His great mercy of that I have seen, for it sufficeth me; 
for as I suppose no man in this world hath lived better 
than I have done to achieve that I have done. And 
therewith he took the hair and clothed him in it, and above 
that he put a linen shirt, and after a robe of scarlet, fresh 
and new. And when he was so arrayed they marvelled 
all, for they knew him that he was Launcelot, the good 
knight. And then they said all: O my lord Sir Launcelot, 
be that ye? And he said: Truly I am he. Then came 
word to King Pelles that the knight that had lain so long 
dead was Sir Launcelot. Then was the king right glad, 
and went to see him. And when Launcelot saw him 
come he dressed him against him, and there made the 
king great joy of him. And there the king told him tidings 
that his fair daughter was dead. Then Launcelot was right 
heavy of it, and said: Sir, me forthinketh the death of 
your daughter, for she was a full fair lady, fresh and young. 
And well I wot she bare the best knight that is now on 
the earth, or that ever was sith God was born. So the 
king held him there four days, and on the morrow he took 
his leave at King Pelles and at all the fellowship, and 



THE HOLY GRAIL 215 

thanked them of their great labour. Right so as they sat 
at their dinner in the chief hall, then was it so that the 
Sangreal had fulfilled the table with all manner of meats 
that any heart might think. So as they sat they saw all the 
doors and the windows of the place were shut without 
man's hand, whereof they were all abashed, and none wist 
what to do. And then it happened suddenly that a knight 
came to the chief door and knocked, and cried: Undo the 
door. But they would not. And ever he cried: Undo; 
but they would not. And at last it annoyed him so much 
that the king himself arose and came to a window where 
the knight called. Then he said: Sir knight, ye shall not 
enter at this time while the Sangreal is here, and therefore 
go into another ; for certes ye be none of the knights of the 
quest, but one of them which hath served the fiend, and 
hast left the service of Our Lord: and he was passing 
wroth at the king's words. Sir knight, said the king, sith 
ye would so fain enter, say me of what country ye be. 
Sir, said he, I am of the realm of Logris, and my name is 
Ector de Maris, and brother unto my lord, Sir Launcelot. 
In the name of God, said the king, me forthinketh of what 
I have said, for your brother is here within. And when 
Ector de Maris understood that his brother was there, for he 
was the man in the world that he most dread and loved, and 
then he said: Ah God, now doubleth my sorrow and shame. 
Full truly said the good man of the hill unto Gawaine and 
to me of our dreams. Then went he out of the court as 
fast as his horse might, and so throughout the castle. 



CHAPTER XVII 

HOW SIR LAUNCELOT RETURNED TOWARDS LOGRIS, AND OF 
OTHER ADVENTURES WHICH HE SAW IN THE WAY 

Then King Pelles came to Sir Launcelot and told him 
tidings of his brother, whereof he was sorry, that he wist 
not what to do. So Sir Launcelot departed, and took his 
arms, and said he would go see the realm of Logris, which 
I have not seen these twelve months. And therewith he 

(n) hc xxxv 



216 SIR THOMAS MALORY 

commended the king to God, and so rode through many 
realms. And at the last he came to a white abbey, and 
there they made him that night great cheer; and on the 
morn he rose and heard mass. And afore an altar he found 
a rich tomb, the which was newly made; and then he took 
heed, and saw the sides written with gold which said: Here 
lieth King Bagdemagus of Gore, which King Arthur's 
nephew slew; and named him, Sir Gawaine. Then was he 
not a little sorry, for Launcelot loved him much more than 
any other, and had it been any other than Gawaine he 
should not have escaped from death to life; and said to 
himself: Ah Lord God, this is a great hurt unto King 
Arthur's court, the loss of such a man. And then he 
departed and came to the abbey where Galahad did the 
adventure of the tombs, and won the white shield with the 
red cross; and there had he great cheer all that night. 
And on the morn he turned unto Camelot, where he found 
King Arthur and the queen. But many of the knights of 
the Round Table were slain and destroyed, more than half. 
And so three were come home again, that were Sir Gawaine, 
Sir Ector, and Sir Lionel, and many other that need not 
to be rehearsed. Then all the court was passing glad of 
Sir Launcelot, and the king asked him many tidings of his 
son Galahad. And there Launcelot told the king of his 
adventures that had befallen him syne he departed. And 
also he told him of the adventures of Galahad, Percivale, 
and Bors, which that he knew by the letter of the dead 
damosel, and as Galahad had told him. Now God would, 
said the king, that they were all three here. That shall 
never be, said Launcelot, for two of them shall ye never 
see, but one of them shall come again. 



CHAPTER XVIII 

HOW GALAHAD CAME TO KING MORDRAINS, AND OF 
OTHER MATTERS AND ADVENTURES 

Now saith the story that Galahad rode many journeys in 
vain. And at the last he came to the Abbey where King 



THE HOLY GRAIL 217 

Mordrains was, and when he heard that, he thought he 
would abide to see him. And upon the morn, when he 
had heard mass, Galahad came unto King Mordrains, and 
anon the king saw him, which had lain blind a long time. 
And then he dressed him against him, and said: Galahad, 
the servant of Jesu Christ, whose coming I have abiden so 
long, now embrace me and let me rest on thy breast, so 
that I may rest between thine arms, for thou art a clene 
virgin above all knights, as the flower of the lily in whom 
virginity is signified, and thou art the rose the which is the 
flower of all good virtues, and in colour of fire. For the 
fire of the Holy Ghost is taken so in thee that my flesh 
which was of dead oldness is become young again. When 
Galahad heard his words, then he embraced him and all his 
body. Then said he: Fair Lord Jesu Christ, now I have 
my will. Now I require thee, in this point that I am in, 
thou come and visit me. And anon Our Lord heard his 
prayer: therewith the soul departed from the body. And 
then Galahad put him in the earth as a king ought to be, 
and so departed and came into a perilous forest where he 
found the well the which boileth with great waves, as the 
tale telleth tofore. And as soon as Galahad set his hand 
thereto it ceased, so that it burnt no more, and the heat 
departed. For that it brent it was a sign of lechery, the 
which was that time much used. But that heat might not 
abide his pure virginity. And this was taken in the country 
for a miracle. And so ever after was it called Galahad's 
well. Then by adventure he came into the country of 
Gore, and into the Abbey where Launcelot had been 
toforehand, and found the tomb of King Bagdemagus, but 
Joseph of Aramathie's son was founder thereof; and the 
tomb of Simeon where Launcelot had failed. Then he 
looked into a croft under the minster, and there he saw a 
tomb which burnt full marvellously. Then asked he the 
brethren what it was. Sir, said they, a marvellous adventure 
that may not be brought unto none end but by him that 
passeth of bounty and of knighthood all the knights of the 
Round Table. I would, said Galahad, that ye would lead 
me thereto. Gladly, said they. And so they led him unto a 
cave. And he went down upon gretys, and came nigh the 



218 SIR THOMAS MALORY 

tomb. And then the flaming failed, and the fire stanched, 
the which many a day had been great. Then came there 
a voice that said: much are ye beholden to thank Our 
Lord, the which hath given you a good hour, that ye may 
draw out the souls of earthly pain, and to put them into 
the joys of paradise. I am of your kindred, the which 
hath dwelled in this heat this three hundred four and fifty 
winter to be purged of the sin that I did against Joseph of 
Aramathie. Then Galahad took the body in his arms and 
bare it into the minster. And that night lay Galahad in the 
abbey ; and on the morn he gave him service, and put him in 
the earth afore the high altar. 



CHAPTER XIX 

HOW SIR PERCIVALE AND SIR B0RS MET WITH SIR GALAHAD, 

AND HOW THEY CAME TO THE CASTLE OF 

CARBON EK, AND OTHER MATTERS 

So departed he from thence, and commended the brethren 
to God; and so he rode five days till that he came to the 
maimed king. And ever followed Percivale the five days, 
asking where he had been; and so one told him how the 
adventures of Logris were achieved. So on a day it befell 
that they came out of a great forest, and there they met at 
traverse with Sir Bors, the which rode alone. It is none 
need to tell if they were glad; and them he saluted, and 
they yielded him honour and good adventure, and every 
each told other. Then said Bors: It is more than a year 
and an half that I ne lay ten times where men dwelled, but 
in wild forests and in mountains, but God was ever my 
comfort. Then rode they a great while till that they came 
to the castle of Carbonek. And when they were entered 
within the castle King Pelles knew them ; then there was 
great joy, for they wist well by their coming that they had 
fulfilled the quest of the Sangreal. Then Eliazar, King 
Pelles' son, brought tofore them the broken sword wherewith 
Joseph was stricken through the thigh. Then Bors set his 
hand thereto, if that he might have soldered it again; but 



THE HOLY GRAIL 219 

it would not be. Then he took it to Percivale, but he had 
no more power thereto than he. Now have ye it again, said 
Percivale to Galahad, for an it be ever achieved by any bodily 
man ye must do it. And then he took the pieces and set 
them together, and they seemed that they had never been 
broken, and as well as it had been first forged. And when 
they within espied that the adventure of the sword was 
achieved, then they gave the sword to Bors, for it might not 
be better set; for he was a good knight and a worthy man. 
And a little afore even the sword arose great and marvellous, 
and was full of great heat that many men fell for dread. 
And anon alit a voice among them, and said: They that 
ought not to sit at the table of Jesu Christ arise, for now 
shall very knights be fed. So they went thence, all save 
King Pelles and Eliazar, his son, the which were holy men, 
and a maid which was his niece; and so these three fellows 
and they three were there, no more. Anon they saw knights 
all armed come in at the hall door, and did off their helms 
and their arms, and said unto Galahad: Sir, we have hied 
right much for to be with you at this table where the holy 
meat shall be departed. Then said he: Ye be welcome, 
but of whence be ye? So three of them said they were of 
Gaul, and other three said they were of Ireland, and the 
other three said they were of Denmark. So as they sat 
thus there came out a bed of tree, of a chamber, the which 
four gentlewomen brought; and in the bed lay a good man 
sick, and a crown of gold upon his head ; and there in the 
middes of the place they set him down, and went again their 
way. Then he lift up his head, and said: Galahad, Knight, 
ye be welcome, for much have I desired your coming, for in 
such anguish I have been long. But now I trust to God the 
term is come that my pain shall be allayed, that I shall pass 
out of this world so as it was promised me long ago. There- 
with a voice said: There be two among you that be not in 
the quest of the Sangreal, and therefore depart ye. 



220 SIR THOMAS MALORY 



CHAPTER XX 

HOW GALAHAD AND HIS FELLOWS WERE FED OF THE HOLY 

SANGREAL, AND HOW OUR LORD APPEARED TO 

THEM, AND OTHER THINGS 

Then King Pelles and his son departed. And therewithal 
beseemed them that there came a man, and four angels from 
heaven, clothed in likeness of a bishop, and had a cross in 
his hand ; and there four angels bare him in a chair, and set 
him down before the table of silver whereupon the Sangreal 
was; and it seemed that he had in middes of his forehead 
letters the which said : See ye here Joseph, the first bishop 
of Christendom, the same which Our Lord succoured in the 
city of Sarras in the spiritual place. Then the knights 
marvelled, for that bishop was dead more than three hun- 
dred years tofore. O knights, said he, marvel not, for I was 
sometime an earthly man. With that they heard the chamber 
door open, and there they saw angels ; and two bare candles 
of wax, and the third a towel, and the fourth a spear which 
bled marvellously, that three drops fell within a box which 
he held with his other hand. And they set the candles 
upon the table, and the third the towel upon the vessel, and 
the fourth the holy spear even upright upon the vessel. And 
then the bishop made semblant as though he would have 
gone to the sacring of the mass. And then he took an 
ubblye which was made in likeness of bread. And at the 
lifting up there came a figure in likeness of a child, and the 
visage was as red and as bright as any fire, and smote himself 
into the bread, so that they all saw it that the bread was 
formed of a fleshly man ; and then he put it into the holy 
vessel again, and then he did that longed to a priest to do 
to a mass. And then he went to Galahad and kissed him, 
and bad him go and kiss his fellows : and so he did anon. 
Now, said he, servants of Jesu Christ, ye shall be fed afore 
this table with sweetmeats that never knights tasted. And 
when he had said, he vanished away. And they set them 
at the table in great dread and made their prayers. Then 
looked they and saw a man come out of the holy vessel, 



THE HOLY GRAIL 221 

that had all the signs of the passion of Jesu Christ, bleeding 
all openly, and said : My knights, and my servants, and my 
true children, which be come out of deadly life into spiritual 
life, I will now no longer hide me from you, but ye shall see 
now a part of my secrets and of my hidden things: now 
hold and receive the high meat which ye have so much 
desired. Then took he himself the holy vessel and came to 
Galahad; and he kneeled down, and there he received his 
Saviour, and after him so received all his fellows; and they 
thought it so sweet that it was marvellous to tell. Then said 
he to Galahad: Son, wotest thou what I hold betwixt my 
hands? Nay, said he, but if ye will tell me. This is, said 
he, the holy dish wherein I ate the lamb on Sher-Thursday. 
And now hast thou seen that thou most desired to see, but 
yet hast thou not seen it so openly as thou shalt see it in the 
city of Sarras in the spiritual place. Therefore thou must 
go hence and bear with thee this holy vessel; for this night 
it shall depart from the realm of Logris, that it shall never 
be seen more here. And wotest thou wherefore? For he 
is not served nor worshipped to his right by them of this 
land, for they be turned to evil living; therefore I shall dis- 
herit them of the honour which I have done them. And 
therefore go ye three to-morrow unto the sea, where ye shall 
find your ship ready and with you take the sword with the 
strange girdles, and no more with you but Sir Percivale and 
Sir Bors. Also I will that ye take with you of the blood of 
this spear for to anoint the maimed king, both his legs and 
all his body, and he shall have his health. Sir, said Gala- 
had, why shall not these other fellows go with us? For this 
cause: for right as I departed my apostles one here and 
another there, so I will that ye depart ; and two of you shall 
die in my service, but one of you shall come again and tell 
tidings. Then gave he them his blessing and vanished 
away. 



222 SIR THOMAS MALORY 



CHAPTER XXI 



HOW GALAHAD ANOINTED WITH THE BLOOD OF THE SPEAR 
THE MAIMED KING, AND OTHER ADVENTURES 

And Galahad went anon to the spear which lay upon the 
table, and touched the blood with his fingers, and came after 
to the maimed king and anointed his legs. And therewith 
he clothed him anon, and start upon his feet out of his bed 
as an whole man, and thanked Our Lord that He had healed 
him. And that was not to the world ward, for anon he 
yielded him to a place of religion of white monks, and was 
a full holy man. That same night about midnight came a 
voice among them which said: My sons and not my chief 
sons, my friends and not my warriors, go ye hence where ye 
hope best to do and as I bad you. Ah, thanked be Thou, 
Lord, that Thou wilt vouchsafe to call us, Thy sinners. Now 
may we well prove that we have not lost our pains. And 
anon in all haste they took their harness and departed. But 
the three knights of Gaul, one of them hight Claudine, King 
Claudas' son, and the other two were great gentlemen. Then 
prayed Galahad to every each of them, that if they come to 
King Arthur's court ' that they should salute my lord, Sir 
Launcelot, my father, and of them of the Round Table; 
and prayed them if that they came on that part that they 
should not forget it. Right so departed Galahad, Percivale 
and Bors with him; and so they rode three days, and then 
they came to a rivage, and found the ship whereof the tale 
speaketh of tofore. And when they came to the board they 
found in the middes the table of silver which they had 
left with the maimed king, and the Sangreal which was 
covered with red samite. Then were they glad to have 
such things in their fellowship; and so they entered and 
made great reverence thereto; and Galahad fell in his 
prayer long time to Our Lord, that at what time he asked, 
that he should pass out of this world. So much he prayed 
till a voice said to him : Galahad, thou shalt have thy 
request; and when thou askest the death of thy body thou 
shalt have it, and then shalt thou find the life of the soul. 



THE HOLY GRAIL 223 

Percivale heard this, and prayed him, of fellowship that was 
between them, to tell him wherefore he asked such things. 
That shall I tell you, said Galahad; the other day when we 
saw a part of the adventures of the Sangreal I was in such 
a joy of heart, that I trow never man was that was earthly. 
And therefore I wot well, when my body is dead my soul 
shall be in great joy to see the blessed Trinity every day, 
and the Majesty of Our Lord, Jesu Christ. So long were 
they in the ship that they said to Galahad : Sir, in this bed 
ought ye to lie, for so saith the scripture. And so he laid 
him down and slept a great while; and when he awaked he 
looked afore him and saw the city of Sarras. And as they 
would have landed they saw the ship wherein Percivale had 
put his sister in. Truly, said Percivale, in the name of God, 
well hath my sister holden us covenant. Then took they 
out of the ship the table of silver, and he took it to Perci- 
vale and to Bors, to go tofore, and Galahad came behind. 
And right so they went to the city, and at the gate of the 
city they saw an old man crooked. Then Galahad called 
him and bad him help to bear this heavy thing. Truly, said 
the old man, it is ten year ago that I might not go but with 
crutches. Care thou not, said Galahad, and arise up and 
shew thy good will. And so he essayed, and found himself 
as whole as ever he was. Then ran he to the table, and 
took one part against Galahad. And anon arose there great 
noise in the city, that a cripple was made whole by knights 
marvellous that entered into the city. Then anon after, the 
three knights went to the water, and brought up into the 
palace Percivale's sister, and buried her as richly as a king's 
daughter ought to be. And when the king of the city, 
which was cleped Estorause, saw the fellowship, he asked 
them of whence they were, and what thing it was that they 
had brought upon the table of silver. And they told him 
the truth of the Sangreal, and the power which that God 
had set there. Then the king was a tyrant, and was come 
of the line of paynims, and took them and put them in 
prison in a deep hole. 



224 SIR THOMAS MALORY 



CHAPTER XXII 

HOW THEY WERE FED WITH THE SANGREAL WHILE 

THEY WERE IN PRISON, AND HOW 

GALAHAD WAS MADE KING 

But as soon as they were there Our Lord sent them the 
Sangreal, through whose grace they were alway fulfilled while 
that they were in prison. So at the year's end it befel that 
this King Estorause lay sick, and felt that he should die. 
Then he sent for the three knights, and they came afore 
him; and he cried them mercy of that he had done to them, 
and they forgave it him goodly ; and he died anon. When 
the king was dead all the city was dismayed, and wist not 
who might be their king. Right so as they were in counsel 
there came a voice among them, and bad them choose the 
youngest knight of them three to be their king: For he 
shall well maintain you and all yours. So they made 
Galahad king by all the assent of the holy city, and else 
they would have slain him. And when he was come to 
behold the land, he let make above the table of silver a 
chest of gold and of precious stones, that hylled the holy 
vessel. And every day early the three fellows would come 
afore it, and make their prayers. Now at the year's end, 
and the self day after Galahad had borne the crown of gold, 
he arose up early and his fellows, and came to the palace, 
and saw tofore them the holy vessel, and a man kneeling on 
his knees in likeness of a bishop, that had about him a great 
fellowship of angels as it had been Jesu Christ himself; 
and then he arose and began a mass of Our Lady. And 
when he came to the sacrament of the mass, and had done, 
anon he called Galahad, and said to him: Come forth the 
servant of Jesu Christ, and thou shalt see that thou hast much 
desired to see. And then he began to tremble right hard 
when the deadly flesh began to behold the spiritual things. 
Then he held up his hands toward heaven and said: Lord, 
I thank thee, for now I see that that hath been my desire 
many a day. Now, blessed Lord, would I not longer live, 
if it might please thee, Lord. And therewith the good man 



THE HOLY GRAIL 225 

took Our Lord's body betwixt his hands, and proffered it to 
Galahad, and he received it right gladly and meekly. Now 
wotest thou what I am? said the good man. Nay, said 
Galahad. I am Joseph of Aramathie, the which Our Lord 
hath sent here to thee to bear thee fellowship; and wotest 
thou wherefore that he hath sent me more than any other? 
For thou hast resembled me in two things; in that thou 
hast seen the marvels of the Sangreal, in that thou hast been 
a clene maiden, as I have been and am. And when he had 
said these words Galahad went to Percivale and kissed him, 
and commended him to God; and so he went to Sir Bors 
and kissed him, and commended him to God, and said: 
Fair lord, salute me to my lord, Sir Launcelot, my father, 
and as soon as ye see him, bid him remember of this unstable 
world. And therewith he kneeled down tofore the table 
and made his prayers, and then suddenly his soul departed 
to Jesu Christ, and a great multitude of angels bare his 
soul up to heaven, that the two fellows might well behold 
it. Also the two fellows saw come from heaven an hand, 
but they saw not the body. And then it came right to the 
Vessel, and took it and the spear, and so bare it up to 
heaven. Sithen was there never man so hardy to say that 
he had seen the Sangreal. 

CHAPTER XXIII 

OF THE SORROW THAT PERCIVALE AND BORS MADE WHEN 

GALAHAD WAS DEAD : AND OF PERCIVALE HOW 

HE DIED, AND OTHER MATTERS 

When Percivale and Bors saw Galahad dead they made 
as much sorrow as ever did two men. And if they had not 
been good men they might lightly have fallen in despair. And 
the people of the country and of the city were right heavy. 
And then he was buried; and as soon as he was buried Sir 
Percivale yielded him to an hermitage out of the city, and 
took a religious clothing. And Bors was alway with him, 
but never changed he his secular clothing, for that he pur- 
posed him to go again into the realm of Logris. Thus a 
year and two months lived Sir Percivale in the hermitage 



226 SIR THOMAS MALORY 

a full holy life, and then passed out of this world; and 
Bors let bury him by his sister and by Galahad in the 
spiritualities. When Bors saw that he was in so far coun- 
tries as in the parts of Babylon he departed from Sarras, 
and armed him and came to the sea, and entered into a 
ship; and so it befell him in good adventure he came into 
the realm of Logris ; and he rode so fast till he came to 
Camelot where the king was. And then was there great 
joy made of him in the court, for they weened all he had 
been dead, forasmuch as he had been so long out of the 
country. And when they had eaten, the king made great 
clerks to come afore him, that they should chronicle of the 
high adventures of the good knights. When Bors had told 
him of the adventures of the Sangreal, such as had befallen 
him and his three fellows, that was Launcelot, Percivale, 
Galahad, and himself, there Launcelot told the adventures 
of the Sangreal that he had seen. All this was made in 
great books, and put up in almeryes at Salisbury. And anon 
Sir Bors said to Sir Launcelot: Galahad, your own son, 
saluted you by me, and after you King Arthur and all the 
Court, and so did Sir Percivale, for I buried them with 
mine own hands in the city of Sarras. Also, Sir Launcelot, 
Galahad prayed you to remember of this unsyker world as 
ye behight him when ye were together more than half a 
year. This is true, said Launcelot; now I trust to God his 
prayer shall avail me. Then Launcelot took Sir Bors in 
his arms, and said : Gentle cousin, ye are right welcome to 
me, and all that ever I may do for you and for yours ye 
shall find my poor body ready at all times, while the spirit is 
in it, and that I promise you faithfully, and never to fail. 
And wit ye well, gentle cousin, Sir Bors, that ye and I will 
never depart in sunder whilst our lives may last. Sir, said 
he, I will as ye will. 

Thus endeth thistory of the Sancgreal, that was brevcly 
drazven oute of Frensshe in to Englysshe, the whiche is a 
story cronycled for one of the truest and the holyest that is 
in thys zvorld, the zvhich is the xvii. book. 



A DESCRIPTION OF ELIZABETHAN 
ENGLAND 



WRITTEN BY 
WILLIAM HARRISON 



FOR 
HOLINSHED CHRONICLES 



INTRODUCTORY NOTE 

Near the beginning of Elizabeth's reign, Reginald Wolfe, 
the Queen's Printer, with the splendid audacity characteristic of 
that age, planned to publish a " universal Cosmography of the 
whole world, and therewith also certain particular histories of 
every known nation." Raphael Holinshed had charge of the 
histories of England, Scotland, and Ireland, the only part of the 
work ever published; and these were issued in 1577, and have 
since been known as " Holinshed 's Chronicles." From them 
Shakespeare drew most of the material for his historical plays. 

Among Holinshed's collaborators was one William Harrison, 
chaplain to Lord Cobham, and later Rector of Radwinter in 
Essex and Canon of Windsor. To him was allotted the task of 
writing the "Descriptions of Britain and England" from which 
the following chapters are drawn. He gathered his facts from 
books, letters, maps, conversations, and, most important of all, 
his own observation and experience ; and he put them loosely 
together into what he calls " this foul frizzled treatise." Yet, 
with all his modesty, he claims to "have had an especial eye to the 
truth of things" ; and as a result we have in his pages the most 
vivid and detailed picture in existence of the England into 
which Shakespeare was born. 

In 1876 Dr. Furnivall condensed Harrison's chapters for the 
New Shakspere Society, and these have since been reprinted by 
Mr. Lothrop Withington in the modem dress in which the most 
interesting of them appear here. No apology is needed for thus 
selecting and rearranging , since in their original form they were 
without unity, and formed part of a vast compilation. 

Harrison's merit does not lie in the rich interest of his matter 
alone. He wrote a racy style with a strong individual as well as 
Elizabethan flavor; and his personal comment upon the manners 
of his time serves as a piquant sauce to the solid meat of his 
historical information. 



228 



A DESCRIPTION OF 
ELIZABETHAN ENGLAND 



CHAPTER I 

OF DEGREES OF PEOPLE IN THE COMMONWEALTH OF 
ELIZABETHAN ENGLAND 

[i577» Book III., Chapter 4; 1587, Book II., Chapter 5.] 1 

WE in England, divide our people commonly into four 
sorts, as gentlemen, citizens or burgesses, yeomen, 
and artificers or labourers. Of gentlemen the first 
and chief (next the king) be the prince, dukes, marquesses, 
earls, viscounts, and barons; and these are called gentlemen 
of the greater sort, or (as our common usage of speech is) 
lords and noblemen : and next unto them be knights, esquires, 
and, last of all, they that are simply called gentlemen. So 
that in effect our gentlemen are divided into their conditions, 
whereof in this chapter I will make particular rehearsal. 

The title of prince doth peculiarly belong with us to the 
king's eldest son, who is called Prince of Wales, and is the 
heir-apparent to the crown; as in France the king's eldest 
son hath the title of Dauphin, and is named peculiarly 
Monsieur. So that the prince is so termed of the Latin word 
Princeps, since he is (as I may call him) the chief or 
principal next the king. The king's younger sons be but 
gentlemen by birth (till they have received creation or 
donation from their father of higher estate, as to be either 
viscounts, earls, or dukes) and called after their names, as 
Lord Henry, or Lord Edward, with the addition of the 
word Grace, properly assigned to the king and prince, and 

1 These references are to the first two editions of Holinshed's Chronicles. 
The modernization of the spelling, etc., follows that of Mr. L. Wilkington, 
whose notes are signed W. 

229 



230 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

now also by custom conveyed to dukes, archbishops, and (as 
some say) to marquesses and their wives. 2 . . . 

Unto this place I also refer our bishops, who are accounted 
honourable, called lords, and hold the same room in the 
Parliament house with the barons, albeit for honour sake 
the right hand of the prince is given unto them, and whose 
countenances in time past were much more glorious than at 
this present it is, .because those lusty prelates sought after 
earthly estimation and authority with far more diligence 
than after the lost sheep of Christ, of which they had small 
regard, as men being otherwise occupied and void of leisure 
to attend upon the same. Howbeit in these days their estate 
remaineth no less reverend than before, and the more 
virtuous they are that be of this calling the better are they 
esteemed with high and low. They retain also the ancient 
name ("lord") still, although it be not a little impugned 
by such as love either to hear of change of all things or 
can abide no superiors. For notwithstanding it be true that 
in respect of function the office of the eldership 3 is equally 
distributed between the bishop and the minister, yet for 
civil government's sake the first have more authority given 
unto them by kings and princes, to the end that the rest 
may thereby be with more ease retained within a limited 
compass of uniformity than otherwise they would be if each 
one were suffered to walk in his own course. This also is 
more to be marvelled at, that very many call for an altera- 
tion of their estate, crying to have the word " lord " abol- 
ished, their civil authority taken from them, and the present 
condition of the church in other things reformed; whereas, 
to say truly, few of them do agree upon form of discipline 
and government of the church succeedent, wherein they 
resemble the Capuans (of whom Livy doth speak) in the 
slaughter of their senate. Neither is it possible to frame a 
whole monarchy after the pattern of one town or city, or to 
stir up such an exquisite face of the church as we imagine 
or desire, sith our corruption is such that it will never yield 
to so great perfection ; for that which is not able to be per- 
formed in a private house will be much less be brought to 

3 Here follow etymologies of the terms " Duke," " Marquess," and 
" Baron."— W. 

' i Sam. ii. 15; 1 Kings i. 7. — H. 



OF DEGREES OF PEOPLE 231 

pass in a commonwealth and kingdom, before such a prince 
be found as Xenophon describeth, or such an orator as Tully 
hath devised.* . . . 

Dukes, marquesses, earls, viscounts, and barons either 
be created of the prince or come to that honour by being 
the eldest sons or highest in succession to their parents. 
For the eldest son of a duke during his father's life is an 
earl, the eldest son of an earl is a baron, or sometimes a vis- 
count, according as the creation is. The creation I call the 
original donation and condition of the honour given by the 
prince for good service done by the first ancestor, with some 
advancement, which, with the title of that honour, is always 
given to him and his heirs males only. The rest of the sons 
of the nobility by the rigour of the law be but esquires; yet 
in common speech all dukes' and marquesses' sons and 
earls' eldest sons be called lords, the which name commonly 
doth agree to none of lower degree than barons, yet by law 
and use these be not esteemed barons. 

The barony or degree of lords doth answer to the degree 
of senators of Rome (as I said) and the title of nobility (as 
we used to call it in England) to the Roman Patricii. Also 
in England no man is commonly created baron except he 
may dispend of yearly revenues a thousand pounds, or so 
much as may fully maintain and bear out his countenance 
and port. But viscounts, earls, marquesses, and dukes ex- 
ceed them according to the proportion of their degree and 
honour. But though by chance he or his son have less, yet 
he keepeth this degree: but if the decay be excessive, and 
not able to maintain the honour (as Senatores Romani were 
amoti d, senatu), so sometimes they are not admitted to the 
upper house in the parliament, although they keep the name 
of " lord " still, which cannot be taken from them upon any 
such occasion. 

The most of these names have descended from the French 
invention, in whose histories we shall read of them eight 
hundred years past. 6 . . . 

Knights be not born, neither is any man a knight by suc- 
cession, no, not the king or prince : but they are made either 

* Here follows a long paragraph on the character of the clergy which is 
more appropriate to the chapter on " The Church." — W. 

5 Here follows a learned disquisition upon " Valvasors." — W. 

(O) HC XXXV 



232 HOLINCHED'S CHRONICLES 

before the battle, to encourage them the more to adventure 
and try their manhood; or after the battle ended, as an 
advancement for their courage and prowess already shewed, 
and then are they called Milites; or out of the wars for 
some great service done, or for the singular virtues which 
do appear in them, and then are they named Equites Aurati, 
as common custom intendeth. They are made either by the 
king himself, or by his commission and royal authority given 
for the same purpose, or by his lieutenant in the wars. 8 . . . 

Sometime diverse ancient gentlemen, burgesses, and 
lawyers are called unto knighthood by the prince, and never- 
theless refuse to take that state upon them, for which they 
are of custom punished by a fine, that redoundeth unto his 
coffers, and (to say truth) is oftentimes more profitable unto 
him than otherwise their service should be, if they did yield 
unto knighthood. And this also is a cause wherefore there 
be many in England able to dispend a knight's living, which 
never come unto that countenance, and by their own con- 
sents. The number of the knights in Rome was also un- 
certain : and so is it of knights likewise, with us, as at the 
pleasure of the prince. And whereas the Equites Romani 
had Equum Publicum of custom bestowed upon them, the 
knights of England have not so, but bear their own charges in 
that also, as in other kind of furniture, as armour meet for 
their defence and service. This nevertheless is certain, that 
whoso may dispend forty pounds by the year of free land, 
either at the coronation of the king, or marriage of his 
daughter, or time of his dubbing, may be informed unto the 
taking of that degree, or otherwise pay the revenues of his 
land for one year, which is only forty pounds by an old 
proportion, and so for a time be acquitted of that title. 7 . . . 

At the coronation of a king or queen, there be other 
knights made with longer and more curious ceremonies, 
called " knights of the bath." But howsoever one be dubbed 
or made knight, his wife is by-and-by called " Madam," or 
"Lady," so well as the baron's wife: he himself having 
added to his name in common appellation this syllable 
" Sir," which is the title whereby we call our knights in 

6 Here follows a discourse upon Equites Aurati. — W. 
1 Here is a description of dubbing a knight. — W. 



OF DEGREES OF PEOPLE 233 

England. His wife also of courtesy so long as she liveth 
is called " my lady," although she happen to marry with a 
gentleman or man of mean calling, abeit that by the common 
law she hath no such prerogative. If her first husband 
also be of better birth than her second, though this latter 
likewise be a knight, yet in that she pretendeth a privilege 
to lose no honour through courtesy yielded to her sex, she 
will be named after the most honourable or worshipful of 
both, which is not seen elsewhere. 

The other order of knighthood in England, and the most 
honourable, is that of the garter, instituted by King Edward 
the Third, who, after he had gained many notable victories, 
taken King John of France, and King James of Scotland 
(and kept them both prisoners in the Tower of London at 
one time), expelled King Henry of Castille, the bastard, 
out of his realm, and restored Don Pedro unto it (by the 
help of the Prince of Wales and Duke of Aquitaine, his 
eldest son, called the Black Prince), he then invented this 
society of honour, and made a choice out of his own realm 
and dominions, and throughout all Christendom of the best, 
most excellent, and renowned persons in all virtues and 
honour, and adorned them with that title to be knights of his 
order, giving them a garter garnished with gold and precious 
stones, to wear daily on the left leg only ; also a kirtle, gown, 
cloak, chaperon, collar, and other solemn and magnificent 
apparel, both of stuff and fashion exquisite and heroical to 
wear at high feasts, and as to so high and princely an order 
appertaineth. . . . 

The order of the garter therefore was devised in the time 
of King Edward the Third, and (as some write) upon this 
occasion. The queen's majesty then living, being departed 
from his presence the next way toward her lodging, he fol- 
lowing soon after happened to find her garter, which slacked 
by chance and so fell from her leg, unespied in the throng 
by such as attended upon her. His grooms and gentlemen 
also passed by it, as disdaining to stoop and take up such a 
trifle : but he, knowing the owner, commanded one of them 
to stay and reach it up to him. " Why, and like your grace," 
saith a gentleman, " it is but some woman's garter that hath 
fallen from her as she followed the queen's majesty." 



234 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

" Whatsoever it be," quoth the king, " take it up and give 
it me." So when he had received the garter, he said to such 
as stood about him : " You, my masters, do make small 
account of this bule garter here," and therewith held it out, 
" but, if God lend me life for a few months, I will make 
the proudest of you all to reverence the like." And even 
upon this slender occasion he gave himself to the devising 
of this order. Certes, I have not read of anything that 
having had so simple a beginning hath grown in the end 
to so great honour and estimation. 8 . . . 

There is yet another order of knights in England called 
knights bannerets, who are made in the field with the cere- 
mony of cutting away the point of his pennant of arms, and 
making it as it were a banner, so that, being before but a 
bachelor knight, he is now of an higher degree, and allowed 
to display his arms in a banner, as barons do. Howbeit 
these knights are never made but in the wars, the king's 
standard being unfolded. 9 . . . 

Moreover, as the king doth dub knights, and createth the 
barons and higher degrees, so gentlemen whose ancestors 
are not known to come in with William Duke of Normandy 
(for of the Saxon races yet remaining we now make none 
accounted, much less of the British issue) do take their 
beginning in England, after this manner in our times. 

Whosoever studieth the laws of the realm, whoso abideth 
in the university (giving his mind to his book), or pro- 
fesseth physic and the liberal sciences, or beside his service 
in the room of a captain in the wars, or good counsel given 
at home, whereby his commonwealth is benefited, can live 
without manual labour, and thereto is able and will bear the 
port, charge, and countenance of a gentleman, he shall for 
money have a coat and arms bestowed upon him by heralds 
(who in the charter of the same do of custom pretend an- 
tiquity and service, and many gay things), and thereunto, 
being made so good cheap, be called master (which is the 
title that men give to esquires and gentlemen), and reputed 
for a gentleman ever after, which is so much less to be 
disallowed of for that the prince doth lose nothing by it, the 

8 Long details are given of Garter history, very inaccurate, both here and 
in the last omitted passage. — W. 

8 Derivations of " Esquire " and " Gentleman " are given. — W. 



OF DEGREES OF PEOPLE 235 

gentleman being so much subject to taxes and public pay- 
ments as is the yeoman or husbandman, which he likewise 
doth bear the gladlier for the saving of his reputation. 
Being called also to the wars (for with the government of 
the commonwealth he meddleth little), whatsoever it cost 
him, he will both array and arm himself accordingly, and 
shew the more manly courage, and all the tokens of the 
person which he representeth. No man hath hurt by it but 
himself, who peradventure will go in wider buskins than 
his legs will bear, or, as our proverb saith, " now and then 
bear a bigger sail than his boat is able to sustain." 

Certes the making of new gentlemen bred great strife 
sometimes amongst the Romans, I mean when those which 
were Novi homines were more allowed of for their virtues 
newly seen and shewed than the old smell of ancient race, 
lately defaced by the cowardice and evil life of their nephews 
and descendants, could make the other to be. But as envy 
hath no affinity with justice and equity, so it forceth not 
what language the malicious do give out, against such as 
are exalted for their wisdoms. This nevertheless is gener- 
ally to be reprehended in all estates of gentility, and which 
in short time will turn to the great ruin of our country, and 
that is, the usual sending of noblemen's and mean gentle- 
men's sons into Italy, from whence they bring home nothing 
but mere atheism, infidelity, vicious conversation, and am- 
bitious and proud behaviour, whereby it cometh to pass that 
they return far worse men than they went out. A gentle.- 
man at this present is newly come out of Italy, who went 
thither an earnest Protestant ; but coming home he could say 
after this manner : " Faith and truth is to be kept where no 
loss or hindrance of a future purpose is sustained by holding 
of the same ; and forgiveness only to ( be shewed when full 
revenge is made." Another no less forward than he, at his 
return from thence, could add thus much : " He is a fool 
that maketh account of any religion, but more fool that will 
lose any part of his wealth or will come in trouble for con- 
stant leaning to any; but if he yield to lose his life for his 
possession, he is stark mad, and worthy to be taken for most 
fool of all the rest." This gay booty got these gentlemen 
by going into Italy ; and hereby a man may see what fruit 



236 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

is afterward to be looked for where such blossoms do ap- 
pear. " I care not," saitR a third, " what you talk to me of 
God, so as I may have the prince and the laws of the realm 
on my side." Such men as this last are easily known; for 
they have learned in Italy to go up and down also in Eng- 
land with pages at their heels finely apparelled, whose face 
and countenance shall be such as sheweth the master not 
to be blind in his choice. But lest I should offend too much, 
I pass over to say any more of these Italianates and their 
demeanour, which, alas ! is too open and manifest to the 
world, and yet not called into question. 

Citizens and burgesses have next place to gentlemen, who 
be those that are free within the cities, and are of some 
likely substance to bear office in the same. But these 
citizens or burgesses are to serve the commonwealth in their 
cities and boroughs, or in corporate towns where they dwell, 
and in the common assembly of the realm wherein our laws 
are made (for in the counties they bear but little sway), 
which assembly is called the High Court of Parliament: the 
ancient cities appoint four and the borough two burgesses to 
have voices in it, and give their consent or dissent unto such 
things as pass, to stay there in the name of the city or bor- 
ough for which they are appointed. 

In this place also are our merchants to be installed as 
amongst the citizens (although they often change estate with 
gentlemen, as gentlemen do with them, by a mutual con- 
version of the one into the other), whose number is so 
increased in these our days that their only maintenance is 
the cause of the exceeding prices of foreign wares, which 
otherwise, when every nation was permitted to bring in her 
own commodities, were far better, cheaper, and more plenti- 
fully to be had. Of the want of our commodities here at 
home, by their great transportation of them into other 
countries, I speak not, sith the matter will easily betray 
itself. Certes among the Lacedaemonians it was found out 
that great numbers of merchants were nothing to the fur- 
therance of the state of the commonwealth : wherefore it 
is to be wished that the huge heap of them were somewhat 
restrained, as also of our lawyers, so should the rest live 
more easily upon their own, and few honest chapmen be 



OF DEGREES OF PEOPLE 237 

brought to decay by breaking of the bankrupt. I do not 
deny but that the navy of the land is in part maintained by 
their traffic, and so are the high prices of wares kept up, 
now they have gotten the only sale of things upon pretence 
of better furtherance of the commonwealth into their own 
hands : whereas in times past, when the strange bottoms 
were suffered to come in, we had sugar for fourpence the 
pound, that now at the writing of this Treatise is well worth 
half-a-crown ; raisins or currants for a penny that now are 
holden at sixpence, and sometimes at eightpence and ten- 
pence the pound; nutmegs at twopence halfpenny the ounce, 
ginger at a penny an ounce, prunes at halfpenny farthing, 
great raisins three pounds for a penny, cinnamon at four- 
pence the ounce, cloves at twopence, and pepper at twelve 
and sixteen pence the pound. Whereby we may see the 
sequel of things not always, but very seldom, to be such 
as is pretended in the beginning. The wares that they carry 
out of the realm are for the most part broad clothes and 
carsies 10 of all colours, likewise cottons, friezes, rugs, tin, 
wool, our best beer, baize, bustian, mockadoes (tufted and 
plain), rash, lead, fells, etc.: which, being shipped at sundry 
ports of our coasts, are borne from thence into all quarters 
of the world, and there either exchanged for other wares 
or ready money, to the great gain and commodity of our 
merchants. And whereas in times past their chief trade 
was into Spain, Portugal, France, Flanders, Danske [Den- 
mark], Norway, Scotland, and Ireland only, now in these 
days, as men not contented with these journeys, they have 
sought out the East and West Indies, and made now and then 
suspicious voyages, not only unto the Canaries and New 
Spain, but likewise into Cathay, Muscovy, and Tartaria, and 
the regions thereabout, from whence (as they say) they 
bring home great commodities. But alas ! I see not by all 
their travel that the prices of things are any whit abated. 
Certes this enormity (for so I do account of it) was suffi- 
ciently provided for (Ann. 9 Edward III.) by a noble 
statute made in that behalf, but upon what occasion the 
general execution thereof is stayed or not called on, in good 
sooth, I cannot tell. This only I know, that every function 

10 Kerseys. 



238 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

and several vocation striveth with other, which of them 
should have all the water of commodity run into her own 
cistern. 

Yeomen are those which by our law are called Legates 
homines, free men born English, and may dispend of their 
own free land in yearly revenue to the sum of forty shillings 
sterling, or six pounds as money goeth in our times. Some 
are of the opinion, by Cap. 2 Rich. 2 Ann. 20, that they are 
the same which the Frenchmen call varlets, but, as that 
phrase is used in my time, it is very unlikely to be so. The 
truth is that the word is derived from the Saxon term 
Zeoman, or Geoman, which signifieth (as I have read) a 
settled or staid man, such I mean as, being married and 
of some years, betaketh himself to stay in the place of his 
abode for the better maintenance of himself and his family, 
whereof the single sort have no regard, but are likely to be 
still fleeting now hither now thither, which argueth want 
of stability in determination and resolution of judgment, 
for the execution of things of any importance. This sort 
of people have a certain pre-eminence, and more estimation 
than labourers and the common sort of artificers, and these 
commonly live wealthily, keep good houses, and travel to 
get riches. They are also for the most part farmers to 
gentlemen (in old time called Pagani, et opponuntur militi- 
bus, and therefore Persius calleth himself Semipaganus), or 
at the leastwise artificers, and with grazing, frequenting of 
markets, and keeping of servants (not idle servants, as the 
gentlemen do, but such as get both their own and part of 
their masters' living), do come to great wealth, insomuch 
that many of them are able and do buy the lands of un- 
thrifty gentlemen, and often setting their sons to the schools, 
to the universities, and to the Inns of the Court, or, other- 
wise leaving them sufficient lands whereupon they may live 
without labour, do make them by those means to become 
gentlemen. These were they that in times past made all 
France afraid. And albeit they be not called " Master," as 
gentlemen are, or " Sir," as to knights appertaineth, but 
only " John " and " Thomas," etc., yet have they been found 
to have done very good service. 

The kings of England in foughten battles were wont to 



OF DEGREES OF PEOPLE 239 

remain among them (who were their footmen) as the 
French kings did amongst their horsemen, the prince there- 
by shewing where his chief strength did consist. 

The fourth and last sort of people in England are day- 
labourers, poor husbandmen, and some retailers (which have 
no free land) copyholders, and all artificers, as tailors, 
shoemakers, carpenters, brickmakers, masons, etc. u 

As for slaves and bondmen, we have none ; nay, such is 
the privilege of our country by the especial grace of God 
and bounty of our princes, that if any come hither from 
other realms, so soon as they set foot on land they become 
so free of condition as their masters, whereby all note of 
servile bondage is utterly removed from them, wherein we 
resemble (not the Germans, who had slaves also, though 
such as in respect of the slaves of other countries might well 
be reputed free, but) the old Indians and the Taprobanes, 12 
who supposed it a great injury to Nature to make or suffer 
them to be bond, whom she in her wonted course doth pro- 
duct and bring forth free. This fourth and last sort of people 
therefore have neither voice nor authority in the common- 
wealth, but are to be ruled and not to rule other : yet they are 
not altogether neglected, for in cities and corporate towns, 
for default of yeomen, they are fain to make up their in- 
quests of such manner of people. And in villages they are 
commonly made churchwardens, sidesmen, aleconners, now 
and then constables, and many times enjoy the name of 
head boroughs. Unto this sort also may our great swarms 
of idle serving-men be referred, of whom there runneth a 
proverb, " Young servingmen, old beggars," because service 
is none heritage. These men are profitable to none ; for, if 
their condition be well perused, they are enemies to their mas- 
ters, to their friends, and to themselves: for by them often- 
times their masters are encouraged unto unlawful exactions of 
their tenants, their friends brought unto poverty by their 
rents enhanced, and they themselves brought to confusion by 
their own prodigality and errors, as men that, having not 
wherewith of their own to maintain their excesses, do search 
in highways, budgets, coffers, mails, and stables, which way 

11 Capite censi, or Proletarii. — H. 

11 The Ceylonese. The Greek name for the island of Ceylon was Taprob- 
ane, which Harrison used merely as a classical scholar. — W. 



240 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

to supply their wants. How divers of them also, coveting to 
bear an high sail, do insinuate themselves with young gentle- 
men and noblemen newly come to their lands, the case is too 
much apparent, whereby the good natures of the parties are 
not only a little impaired, but also their livelihoods and rev- 
enues so wasted and consumed that, if at all, yet not in 
many years, they shall be able to recover themselves. It 
were very good therefore that the superfluous heaps of them 
were in part diminished. And since necessity enforceth to 
have some, yet let wisdom moderate their numbers, so shall 
their masters be rid of unnecessary charge, and the common- 
wealth of many thieves. No nation cherisheth such store of 
them as we do here in England, in hope of which mainte- 
nance many give themselves to idleness that otherwise would 
be brought to labour, and live in order like subjects. Of 
their whoredoms I will not speak anything at all, more than 
of their swearing; yet is it found that some of them do 
make the first a chief pillar of their building, consuming not 
only the goods but also the health and welfare of many 
honest gentlemen, citizens, wealthy yeomen, etc., by such 
unlawful dealings. But how far have I waded in this point, 
or how far may I sail in such a large sea? I will therefore 
now stay to speak any more of those kind of men. In re- 
turning therefore to my matter, this furthermore among 
other things I have to say of our husbandmen and artificers, 
that they were never so excellent in their trades as at 
this present. But as the workmanship of the latter sort was 
newer, more fine, and curious to the eye, so was it never less 
strong and substantial for continuance and benefit of the 
buyers. Neither is there anything that hurteth the common 
sort of our artificers more than haste, and a barbarous or 
slavish desire to turn the penny, and, by ridding their work, 
to make speedy utterance of their wares : which enforceth 
them to bungle up and despatch many things they care not 
how so they be out of their hands, whereby the buyer is 
often sore defrauded, and findeth to his cost that haste 
maketh waste, according to the proverb. 

Oh, how many trades and handicrafts are now in England 
whereof the commonwealth hath no need ! How many need- 
ful commodities have we which are perfected with great cost, 



OF DEGREES OF PEOPLE 241 

etc., and yet may with far more ease and less cost be provi- 
ded from other countries if we could use the means ! I will 
not speak of iron, glass, and such like, which spoil much 
wood, and yet are brought from other countries better cheap 
than we can make them here at home ; I could exemplify also 
in many other. But to leave these things and proceed with 
our purpose, and herein (as occasion serveth) generally, by 
way of conclusion, to speak of the commonwealth of England, 
I find that it is governed and maintained by three sorts of 
persons — 

1. The prince, monarch, and head governor, which is called 
the king, or (if the crown fall to a woman) the queen: in 
whose name and by whose authority all things are ad- 
ministered. 

2. The gentlemen which be divided into two sorts, as the 
barony or estate of lords (which containeth barons and all 
above that degree), and also those that be no lords, as 
knights, esquires, and simple gentlemen, as I have noted al- 
ready. Out of these also are the great deputies and high 
presidents chosen, of which one serveth in Ireland, as another 
did some time in Calais, and the captain now at Berwick, 
as one lord president doth govern in Wales, and the other 
the north parts of this island, which later, with certain 
counsellors and judges, were erected by King Henry the 
Eighth. But, for so much as I have touched their conditions 
elsewhere, it shall be enough to have remembered them at 
this time. 

3. The third and last sort is named the yeomanry, of 
whom and their sequel, the labourers and artificers, I have 
said somewhat even now. Whereto I add that they may not 
be called masters and gentlemen, but goodmen, as Goodman 
Smith, Goodman Coot, Goodman Cornell, Goodman Mascall, 
Goodman Cockswet, etc., and in matters of law these and the 
like are called thus, Giles Jewd, yeoman; Edward Mount- 
ford, yeoman; James Cocke, yeoman; Harry Butcher, yeo- 
man, etc.; by which addition they are exempt from the vul- 
gar and common sorts. Cato calleth them " Aratores et 
optimos cives rex publicce," of whom also you may read more 
in the book of commonwealth which Sir Thomas Smith some 
time penned of this land. 




CHAPTER II 

OF CITIES AND TOWNS IN ENGLAND 
[1577, Book II., Chapter 7; 1587, Book II., Chapter 13.] 

S in old time we read that there were eight-and-twenty 
flamines and archflamines in the south part of this isle, 
and so many great cities under their jurisdiction, so 
in these our days there is but one or two fewer, and each 
of them also under the ecclesiastical regiment of some one 
bishop or archbishop, who in spiritual cases have the charge 
and oversight of the same. So many cities therefore are 
there in England and Wales as there be bishoprics and arch- 
bishoprics. 1 For, notwithstanding that Lichfield and Cov- 
entry and Bath and Wells do seem to extend the aforesaid 
number unto nine-and-twenty, yet neither of these couples 
are to be accounted but as one entire city and see of the 
bishop, sith one bishopric can have relation but unto one 
see, and the said see be situate but in one place, after which 
the bishop doth take his name. 2 . . . 

Certes I would gladly set down, with the names and num- 
ber of the cities', all the towns and villages in England and 
Wales with their true longitudes and latitudes, but as yet I 
cannot come by them in such order as I would ; howbeit 
the tale of our cities is soon found by the bishoprics, sith 
every see hath such prerogative given unto it as to bear the 
name of a city and to use Regaleius within her own limits. 
Which privilege also is granted to sundry ancient towns 
in England, especially northward, where more plenty of 

1 If Harrison means to give us the impression that a city has any direct 
connection with episcopal affairs, he is quite in error. Cities are distinctly 
royal and imperial institutions. The accident of the number of cities and 
sees being the same comes from the natural tendency of the two institutions 
to drift together, though of distinct origin. — W. 

2 Here follows a long and learned disquisition upon the Roman and other 
early towns, especially about St. Albans, a portion of which will be found 
in the Appendix. — W. 

242 



OF CITIES AND TOWNS 243 

them is to be found by a great deal than in the south. The 
names therefore of our cities are these : London, York, Can- 
terbury, Winchester, Carlisle, Durham, Ely, Norwich, Lin- 
coln, Worcester, Gloucester, Hereford, Salisbury, Exeter, 
Bath, Lichfield, Bristol, Rochester, Chester, Chichester, Ox- 
ford, Peterborough, Llandaff, St. Davids, Bangor, St. Asaph, 
whose particular plots and models, with their descriptions, 
shall ensue, if it may be brought to pass that the cutters 
can make despatch of them before this history be published. 
Of towns and villages likewise thus much will I say, that 
there were greater store in old time (I mean within three 
or four hundred years passed) than at this present. And 
this I note out of divers records, charters, and donations 
(made in times past unto sundry religious houses, as Glas- 
tonbury, Abingdon, Ramsey, Ely, and such like), and where- 
of in these days I find not so much as the ruins. Leland, 
in sundry places, complaineth likewise of the decay of par- 
ishes in great cities and towns, missing in some six or 
eight or twelve churches and more, of all which he giveth 
particular notice. For albeit that the Saxons builded many 
towns and villages, and the Normans well more at their 
first coming, yet since the first two hundred years after the 
latter conquest, they have gone so fast again to decay 
that the ancient number of them is very much abated. Ran- 
ulph, the monk of Chester, telleth of general survey made 
in the fourth, sixteenth, and nineteenth of the reign of 
William Conqueror, surnamed the Bastard, wherein it was 
found that (notwithstanding the Danes had overthrown a 
great many) there were to the number of 52,000 towns, 
45,002 parish churches, and 75,000 knights' fees, whereof 
the clergy held 28,015. He addeth moreover that there were 
divers other builded since that time, within the space of a 
hundred years after the coming of the Bastard, as it were 
in lieu or recompense of those that William Rufus pulled 
down for the erection of his New Forest. For by an old 
book which I have, and some time written as it seemeth by 
an under-sheriff of Nottingham, I find even in the time of 
Edward IV. 45,120 parish churches, and but 60,216 knights' 
fees, whereof the clergy held as before 28,015, or at the least 
28,000; for so small is the difference which he doth seem to 



244 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

use. Howbeit, if the assertions of such as write in our time 
concerning this matter either are or ought to be of any credit 
in this behalf, you shall not find above 17,000 towns and 
villages, and 9210 in the whole, which is little more than 
a fourth part of the aforesaid number, if it be thoroughly 
scanned. 3 . . . 

In time past in Lincoln (as the same goeth) there have 
been two-and-fifty parish churches, and good record ap- 
peareth for eight-and-thirty ; but now, if there be four-and- 
twenty, it is all. This inconvenience hath grown altogether 
to the church by appropriations made unto monasteries and 
religious houses — a terrible canker and enemy to religion. 

But to leave this lamentable discourse of so notable and 
grievous an inconvenience, growing as I said by encroaching 
and joining of house to house and laying land to land, where- 
by the inhabitants of many places of our country are de- 
voured and eaten up, and their houses either altogether pulled 
down or suffered to decay little by little, although some time 
a poor man peradventure doth dwell in one of them, who, 
not being able to repair it, suffereth it to fall down — and 
thereto thinketh himself very friendly dealt withal, if he 
may have an acre of ground assigned unto him, wherein to 
keep a cow, or wherein to set cabbages, radishes, parsnips, 
carrots, melons, pompons, 4 or such like stuff, by which he 
and his poor household liveth as by their principal food, sith 
they can do no better. And as for wheaten bread, they 
eat it when they can reach unto the price of it, contenting 
themselves in the meantime with bread made of oats or 
barley : a poor estate, God wot ! Howbeit, what care our 
great encroachers? But in divers places where rich men 
dwelled some time in good tenements, there be now no houses 
at all, but hop-yards, and sheds for poles, or peradventure 
gardens, as we may see in Castle Hedingham, and divers 
other places. But to proceed. 

It is so that, our soil being divided into champaign ground 
and woodland, the houses of the first lie uniformly builded 
in every town together, with streets and lanes ; whereas in 
the woodland countries (except here and there in great 

3 Here follows an allusion to the decay of Eastern cities. — W. 

4 The old and proper form of the modern pumpkin. — W. 



OF CITIES AND TOWNS 245 

market towns) they stand scattered abroad, each one dwell- 
ing in the midst of his own occupying. And as in many 
and most great market towns, there are commonly three 
hundred or four hundred families or mansions, and two 
thousand communicants (or peradventure, more), so in the 
other, whether they be woodland or champaign, we find not 
often above forty, fifty, or three score households, and two 
or three hundred communicants, whereof the greatest part 
nevertheless are very poor folks, oftentimes without all 
manner of occupying, sith the ground of the parish is gotten 
up into a few men's hands, yea sometimes into the tenure 
of one or two or three, whereby the rest are compelled 
either to be hired servants unto the other or else to beg 
their bread in misery from door to door. 

There are some (saith Leland) which are not so favour- 
able, when they have gotten such lands, as to let the houses 
remain upon them to the use of the poor; but they will com- 
pound with the lord of the soil to pull them down for al- 
together, saying that " if they did let them stand, they should 
but toll beggars to the town, thereby to surcharge the rest 
of the parish, and lay more burden upon them." But alas ! 
these pitiful men see not that they themselves hereby do 
lay the greatest log upon their neighbours' necks. For, sith 
the prince doth commonly loose nothing of his duties ac- 
customable to be paid, the rest of the parishioners that re- 
main must answer and bear them out: for they plead more 
charge other ways, saying : " I am charged already with a 
light horse ; I am to answer in this sort, and after that mat- 
ter." And it is not yet altogether out of knowledge that, 
where the king had seven pounds thirteen shillings at a 
task gathered of fifty wealthy householders of a parish in 
England, now, a gentleman having three parts of the town 
in his own hands, four households do bear all the aforesaid 
payment, or else Leland is deceived in his Commentaries, lib. 
13, lately come to my hands, which thing he especially noted 
in his travel over this isle. A common plague and enormity, 
both in the heart of the land and likewise upon the coasts. 
Certes a great number complain of the increase of poverty, 
laying the cause upon God, as though he were in fault for 
sending such increase of people, or want of wars that should 



246 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

consume them, affirming that the land was never so full, 
etc. ; but few men do see the very root from whence it 
doth proceed. Yet the Romans found it out, when they 
flourished, and therefore prescribed limits to every man's 
tenure and occupying. Homer commendeth Achilles for 
overthrowing of five-and-twenty cities : but in mine opinion 
Ganges is much better preferred by Suidas for building of 
three score in India, where he did plant himself. I could 
(if need required) set down in this place the number of 
religious houses and monasteries, with the names of their 
founders, that have been in this island: but, sith it is a 
thing of small importance, I pass it over as impertinent to my 
purpose. Yet herein I will commend sundry of the monas- 
tical votaries, especially monks, for that they were authors of 
many goodly borowes and endwares, 5 near unto their dwell- 
ings although otherwise they pretended to be men separated 
from the world. But alas ! their covetous minds, one way in 
enlarging their revenues, and carnal intent another, appeared 
herein too, too much. For, being bold from time to time to 
visit their tenants, they wrought oft great wickedness, and 
made those endwares little better than brothel-houses, espe- 
cially where nunneries were far off, or else no safe access 
unto them. But what do I spend my time in the rehearsal of 
these filthinesses ? Would to God the memory of them 
might perish with the malefactors ! My purpose was also 
at the end of this chapter to have set down a table of the 
parish churches and market towns throughout all England 
and Wales ; but, sith I cannot perform the same as I would, 
I am forced to give over my purpose; yet by these few 
that ensue you shall easily see what I would have used 
according to the shires, if I might have brought it to 
pass. 

Shires. Market Towns. Parishes. 

Middlesex • 3 73 

London within the walls and without 120 

Surrey 6 140 

Sussex 18 312 

Kent 17 398 

Cambridge 4 163 

* The first is a variant on a Keltic, the second on a Saxon, word, both 
relating to matters sufficiently indicated in the text. — W. 



OF CITIES AND TOWNS 247 



Shires. 


Market Towns. 


Parishes. 


Bedford 


9 


13 


Huntingdon 


5 


78 


Rutland 


2 


47 


Berkshire 


II 


150 


Northampton 


IO 


326 


Buckingham 


II 


196 


Oxford 


IO 


216 


Southampton 


18 


248 


Dorset 


19 


279 


Norfolk 


26 


625 


Suffolk 


25 


S7S 


Essex 


18 


4 J S 



And these I had of a friend of mine, by whose travel and 
his master's excessive charges I doubt not but my country- 
men ere long shall see all England set forth in several 
shires after the same manner that Ortelius hath dealt 
with other countries of the main, to the great benefit of our 
nation and everlasting fame of the aforesaid parties. 



(p) hc xxxv 



CHAPTER III 

OF GARDENS AND ORCHARDS 
[1587, Book II., Chapter 20.] 

AFTER such time as Calais was won from the French, 
Zji and that our countrymen had learned to trade into 
-^ — *- divers countries (whereby they grew rich), they 
began to wax idle also, and thereupon not only left off their 
former painfulness and frugality, but in like sort gave them- 
selves to live in excess and vanity, whereby many goodly 
commodities failed, and in short time were not to be had 
amongst us. Such strangers also as dwelled here with us, 
perceiving our sluggishness, and espying that this idleness 
of ours might redound to their great profit, forthwith em- 
ployed their endeavors to bring in the supply of such things 
as we lacked continually from foreign countries, which yet 
more augmented our idleness. For, having all things at 
reasonable prices (as we supposed) by such means from 
them, we thought it mere madness to spend either time or 
cost about the same here at home. And thus we became 
enemies to our own welfare, as men that in those days 
reposed our felicity in following the wars, wherewith we 
were often exercised both at home and other places. Be- 
sides this, the natural desire that mankind hath to esteem 
of things far sought, because they be rare and costly, and 
the irksome contempt of things near hand, for that they 
are common and plentiful, hath borne no small sway also 
in this behalf amongst us. For hereby we have neglected 
our own good gifts of God, growing here at home, as vile 
and of no value, and had every trifle and toy in admiration 
that is brought hither from far countries, ascribing I wot 
not what great forces and solemn estimation unto them, 
until they also have waxen old, after which they have 

248 



OF GARDENS AND ORCHARDS 249 

been so little regarded, if not more despised, amongst us 
than our own. Examples hereof I could set down many 
and in many things; but, sith my purpose is to deal at this 
time with gardens and orchards, it shall suffice that I touch 
them only, and show our inconstancy in the same, so far 
as shall seem and be convenient for my turn. I comprehend 
therefore under the word " garden " all such grounds as 
are wrought with the spade by man's hand, for so the case 
requireth. 

Of wine I have written already elsewhere sufficiently, 
which commodity (as I have learned further since the 
penning of that book) hath been very plentiful in this 
island, not only in the time of the Romans, but also since 
the Conquest, as I have seen by record ; yet at this pres- 
ent have we none at all (or else very little to speak of) 
growing in this island, which I impute not unto the soil, 
but the negligence of my countrymen. Such herbs, fruits, 
and roots also as grow yearly out of the ground, of seed, 
have been very plentiful in this land, in the time of the 
first Edward, and after his days; but in process of time 
they grew also to be neglected, so that from Henry the 
Fourth till the latter end of Henry the Seventh and begin- 
ning of Henry the Eighth, there was little or no use of them 
in England, but they remained either unknown or supposed 
as food more meet for hogs and savage beasts to feed upon 
than mankind. Whereas in my time their use is not only 
resumed among the poor commons, I mean of melons, pom- 
pons, gourds, cucumbers, radishes, skirets, 1 parsnips, carrots, 
cabbages, navews, 2 turnips, and all kinds of salad herbs — but 
also fed upon as dainty dishes at the tables of delicate mer- 
chants, gentlemen, and the nobility, who make their pro- 
vision yearly for new seeds out of strange countries, from 
whence they have them abundantly. Neither do they now 
stay with such of these fruits as are wholesome in their kinds, 
but adventure further upon such as are very dangerous and 
hurtful, as the verangenes, mushrooms, etc., as if nature had 
ordained all for the belly, or that all things were to be 
eaten for whose mischievous operation the Lord in some 
measure hath given and provided a remedy. 

1 A vegetable something like a carrot. a A kind of turnip. 



250 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

Hops in time past were plentiful in this land. After- 
wards also their maintenance did cease. And now, being 
revived, where are any better to be found? Where any 
greater commodity to be raised by them? Only poles are 
accounted to be their greatest charge. But, sith men have 
learned of late to sow ashen kexes in ashyards by them- 
selves, that inconvenience in short time will be redressed. 

Madder hath grown abundantly in this island, but of 
long time neglected, and now a little revived, and ofifereth 
itself to prove no small benefit unto our country, as many 
other things else, which are now fetched from us: as we 
before time, when we gave ourselves to idleness, were glad 
to have them other. 

If you look into our gardens annexed to our houses, how 
wonderfully is their beauty increased, not only with flowers, 
which Columella calleth Terrena sydera, 3 saying, 

"Pingit et in varios terrestria sydera flores," 4, 

and variety of curious and costly workmanship, but also with 
rare and medicinable herbs sought up in the land within 
these forty years : so that, in comparison of this present, 
the ancient gardens were but dunghills and laistowes, 5 to 
such as did possess them. How art also helpeth nature in 
the daily colouring, doubling, and enlarging the proportion 
of our flowers, it is incredible to report: for so curious and 
cunning are our gardeners now in these days that they 
presume to do in manner what they list with nature, and 
moderate her course in things as if they were her superiors. 
It is a world also to see how many strange herbs, plants, 
and annual fruits are daily brought unto us from the Indies, 
Americans, Taprobane, Canary Isles, and all parts of the 
world: the which, albeit that in respect of the constitutions 
of our bodies they do not grow for us (because that God 
hath bestowed sufficient commodities upon every country 
for her own necessity), yet, for delectation sake unto the 
eye and their odoriferous savours unto the nose, they are 
to be cherished, and God to be glorified also in them, be- 
cause they are his good gifts, and created to do man help 

3 Earthly stars. 

4 " And paints terrestrial constellations with varied flowers." 

5 Refuse-heaps. 



OF GARDENS AND ORCHARDS 251 

and service. There is not almost one nobleman, gentleman, 
or merchant that hath not great store of these flowers, 
which now also do begin to wax so well acquainted with 
our soils that we may almost account of them as parcel 
of our own commodities. They have no less regard in like 
sort to cherish medicinable herbs fetched out of other regions 
nearer hand, insomuch that I have seen in some one garden 
to the number of three hundred or four hundred of them, 
if not more, of the half of whose names within forty years 
past we had no manner of knowledge. But herein I find 
some cause of just complaint, for that we extol their uses 
so far that we fall into contempt of our own, which are in 
truth more beneficial and apt for us than such as grow else- 
where, sith (as I said before) every region hath abundantly 
within her own limits whatsoever is needful and most con- 
venient for them that dwell therein. How do men extol 
the use of tobacco in my time, whereas in truth (whether 
the cause be in the repugnancy of our constitution unto the 
operation thereof, or that the ground doth alter her force, 
I cannot tell) it is not found of so great efficacy as they 
write. And beside this, our common germander or thistle 
benet is found and known to be so wholesome and of so 
great power in medicine as any other herb, if they be used 
accordingly. I could exemplify after the like manner in 
sundry other, as the Salsa parilla, Mochoacan, etc., but I for- 
bear so to do, because I covet to be brief. And truly, 
the estimation and credit that we yield and give unto com- 
pound medicines made with foreign drugs is one great 
cause wherefore the full knowledge and use of our own 
simples hath been so long raked up in the embers. And 
as this may be verified so to be one sound conclusion, for, 
the greater number of simples that go unto any compound 
medicine, the greater confusion is found therein, because 
the qualities and operations of very few of the particulars 
are thoroughly known. And even so our continual desire 
of strange drugs, whereby the physician and apothecary only 
hath the benefit, is no small cause that the use of our simples 
here at home doth go to loss, and that we tread those herbs 
under our feet, whose forces if we knew, and could apply 
them to our necessities, we would honour and have in rever- 



252 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

ence as to their case behoveth. Alas ! what have we to do 
with such Arabian and Grecian stuff as is daily brought from 
those parties which lie in another clime? And therefore 
the bodies of such as dwell there are of another constitution 
than ours are here at home. Certes they grow not for us, 
but for the Arabians and Grecians. And albeit that they 
may by skill be applied unto our benefit, yet to be more 
skilful in them than in our own is folly; and to use foreign 
wares, when our own may serve the turn, is more folly; 
but to despise our own, and magnify above measure the 
use of them that are sought and brought from far, is most 
folly of all: for it savoureth of ignorance, or at the least- 
wise of negligence, and therefore worthy of reproach. 

Among the Indians, who have the most present cures 
for every disease of their own nation, there is small regard 
of compound medicines, and less of foreign drugs, because 
they neither know them nor can use them, but work won- 
ders even with their own simples. With them also the 
difference of the clime doth show her full effect. For, 
whereas they will heal one another in short time with 
application of one simple, etc., if a Spaniard or Englishman 
stand in need of their help, they are driven to have a 
longer space in their cures, and now and then also to use 
some addition of two or three simples at the most, whose 
forces unto them are thoroughly known, because their 
exercise is only in their own, as men that never sought or 
heard what virtue was in those that came from other 
countries. And even so did Marcus Cato, the learned 
Roman, endeavour to deal in his cures of sundry diseases, 
wherein he not only used such simples as were to be had 
in his own country, but also examined and learned the forces 
of each of them, wherewith he dealt so diligently that in 
all his lifetime he could attain to the exact knowledge but 
of a few, and thereto wrote of those most learnedly, as 
would easily be seen if those his books were extant. For 
the space also of six hundred years the colewort only was 
a medicine in Rome for all diseases, so that his virtues 
were thoroughly known in those parts. * * * 

For my part, I doubt not if the use of outlandish drugs 
had not blinded our physicians of England in times past, 



OF GARDENS AND ORCHARDS 253 

but that the virtues of our simples here at home would 
have been far better known, and so well unto us as those 
of India are to the practitioners of those parts, and there- 
unto be found more profitable for us than the foreign 
either are or may be. This also will I add, that even 
those which are most common by reason of their plenty, 
and most vile because of their abundance, are not without 
some universal and special efficacy, if it were known, for 
our benefit : sith God in nature hath so disposed his creatures 
that the most needful are the most plentiful and serving for 
such general diseases as our constitution most commonly 
is affected withal. Great thanks therefore be given unto 
the physicians of our age and country, who not only en- 
deavour to search out the use of such simples as our soil 
doth yield and bring forth, but also to procure such as grow 
elsewhere, upon purpose so to acquaint them with our clime 
that they in time, through some alteration received from 
the nature of the earth, may likewise turn to our benefit 
and commodity and be used as our own. 

The chief workman (or, as I may call him, the founder of 
this device) is Carolus Clusius, the noble herbarist whose 
industry hath wonderfully stirred them up into this good 
act. For albeit that Matthiolus, Rembert, Lobell, and others 
have travelled very far in this behalf, yet none hath come 
near to Clusius, much less gone further in the finding and 
true descriptions of such herbs as of late are brought to 
light. I doubt not but, if this man were in England but 
one seven years, he would reveal a number of herbs grow- 
ing with us whereof neither our physicians nor apothecaries 
as yet have any knowledge. And even like thanks be given 
unto our nobility, gentlemen, and others, for their continual 
nutriture and cherishing of such homeborne and foreign 
simples in their gardens: for hereby they shall not only be 
had at hand and preserved, but also their forms made more 
familiar to be discerned and their forces better known than 
hitherto they have been. 

And even as it fareth with our gardens, so doth it with 
our orchards, which were never furnished with so good 
fruit nor with such variety as at this present. For, beside 
that we have most delicate apples, plums, pears, walnuts, 



254 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

filberts, etc., and those of sundry sorts, planted within forty 
years past, in comparison of which most of the old trees 
are nothing worth, so have we no less store of strange 
fruit, as apricots, almonds, peaches, figs, corn-trees 6 in 
noblemen's orchards. I have seen capers, oranges, and lem- 
ons, and heard of wild olives growing here, beside other 
strange trees, brought from far, whose names I know not. 
So that England for these commodities was never better 
furnished, neither any nation under their clime more plenti- 
fully endued with these and other blessings from the most 
high God, who grant us grace withal to use the same to 
his honour and glory! And not as instruments and prov- 
ocations into further excess and vanity, wherewith his 
displeasure may be kindled, lest these his benefits do turn 
unto thorns and briers unto us for our annoyance and pun- 
ishment, which he hath bestowed upon us for our consola- 
tion and comfort. 

We have in like sort such workmen as are not only excellent 
in grafting the natural fruits, but their artificial mixtures, 
whereby one tree bringeth forth sundry fruits, and one 
and the same fruit of divers colours and tastes, dallying as 
it were with nature and her course, as if her whole trade 
were perfectly known unto them: of hard fruits they will 
make tender, of sour sweet, of sweet yet more delicate, 
bereaving also some of their kernels, other of their cores, 
and finally enduing them with the savour of musk, amber, 
or sweet spices, at their pleasures. Divers also have written 
at large of these several practices, and some of them how 
to convert the kernels of peaches into almonds, of small 
fruit to make far greater, and to remove or add superfluous or 
necessary moisture to the trees, with other things belonging 
to their preservation, and with no less diligence than our 
physicians do commonly show upon our own diseased bodies, 
which to me doth seem right strange. And even so do our 
gardeners with their herbs, whereby they are strengthened 
against noisome blasts, and preserved from putrefaction and 
hindrance : whereby some such as were annual are now made 
perpetual, being yearly taken up, and either reserved in the 
house, or, having the ross pulled from their roots, laid again 

6 Probably cornels. 



OF GARDENS AND ORCHARDS 255 

into the earth, where they remain in safety. With choice 
they make also in their waters, and wherewith some of 
them do now and then keep them moist, it is a world to see, 
insomuch that the apothecaries' shops may seem to be need- 
ful also to our gardens and orchards, and- that in sundry 
wise: nay, the kitchen itself is so far from being able to be 
missed among them that even the very dish-water is not 
without some use amongst our finest plants. Whereby, and 
sundry other circumstances not here to be remembered, I 
am persuaded that, albeit the gardens of the Hesperides 
were in times past so greatly accounted of, because of their 
delicacy, yet, if it were possible to have such an equal 
judge as by certain knowledge of both were able to pro- 
nounce upon them, I doubt not but he would give the prize 
unto the gardens of our days, and generally over all Europe, 
in comparison of those times wherein the old exceeded. 
Pliny and others speak of a rose that had three score leaves 
growing upon one button: but if I should tell of one which 
bare a triple number unto that proportion, I know I shall not 
be believed, and no great matter though I were not ; howbeit 
such a one was to be seen in Antwerp, 1585, as I have 
heard, and I know who might have had a slip or stallon 
thereof, if he would have ventured ten pounds upon the 
growth of the same, which should have been but a tickle 
hazard, and therefore better undone, as I did always im- 
agine. For mine own part, good reader, let me boast a 
little of my garden, which is but small, and the whole area 
thereof little above 300 foot of ground, and yet, such hath 
been my good luck in purchase of the variety of simples, 
that, notwithstanding my small ability, there are very near 
three hundred of one sort and other contained therein, no 
one of them being common or usually to be had. If there- 
fore my little plot, void of all cost in keeping, be so well 
furnished, what shall we think of those of Hampton Court, 
Nonsuch, Tibaults, Cobham Garden, and sundry others 
appertaining to divers citizens of London, whom I could 
particularly name, if I should not seem to offend them by 
such my demeanour and dealing. 



CHAPTER IV 

OF FAIRS AND MARKETS 
[1577, Book II., Chapter 11; 1587, Book II., Chapter 18.] 

THERE are (as I take it) few great towns in England 
that have not their weekly markets, one or more 
granted from the prince, in which all manner of pro- 
vision for household is to be bought and sold, for ease and 
benefit of the country round about. Whereby, as it cometh to 
pass that no buyer shall make any great journey in the pur- 
veyance of his necessities, so no occupier shall have occasion 
to travel far off with his commodities, except it be to seek 
for the highest prices, which commonly are near unto great 
cities, where round 1 and speediest utterance 2 is always to be 
had. And, as these have been in times past erected for the 
benefit of the realm, so are they in many places too, too 
much abused: for the relief and ease of the buyer is not 
so much intended in them as the benefit of the seller. 
Neither are the magistrates for the most part (as men loath 
to displease their neighbours for their one year's dignity) 
so careful in their offices as of right and duty they should 
be. For, in most of these markets, neither assizes of bread 
nor orders for goodness and sweetness of grain and other 
commodities that are brought thither to be sold are any 
whit looked unto, but each one suffered to sell or set up 
what and how himself listeth: and this is one evident cause 
of dearth and scarcity in time of great abundance. 

I could (if I would) exemplify in many, but I will touch 
no one particularly, sith it is rare to see in any country 
town (as I said) the assize of bread well kept according 
to the statute; and yet, if any country baker happen to come 
in among them on the market day with bread of better 

1 Direct. 2 Market. 
256 



OF FAIRS AND MARKETS 257 

quantity, they find fault by-and-by with one thing or other 
in his stuff, whereby the honest poor man (whom the law 
of nations do commend, for that he endeavoureth to live 
by any lawful means) is driven away, and no more to come 
there, upon some round penalty, by virtue of their priv- 
ileges. Howbeit, though they are so nice in the proportion 
of their bread, yet, in lieu of the same, there is such heady 
ale and beer in most of them as for the mightiness thereof 
among such as seek it out is commonly called " huffcap," 
" the mad dog," " Father Whoreson," " angels' food," " drag- 
on's milk," " go-by-the-wall," " stride wide," and " lift leg," 
etc. And this is more to be noted, that when one of late 
fell by God's providence into a troubled conscience, after 
he had considered well of his reachless life and dangerous 
estate, another, thinking belike to change his colour and not 
his mind, carried him straight away to the strongest ale, as 
to the next physician. It is incredible to say how our malt- 
bugs lug at this liquor, even as pigs should lie in a row lug- 
ging at their dame's teats, till they lie still again and be not 
able to wag. Neither did Romulus and Remus suck their 
she- wolf or shepherd's wife Lupa with such eager and sharp 
devotion as these men hale at " huffcap," till they be red as 
cocks and little wiser than their combs. But how am I 
fallen from the market into the ale-house? In returning 
therefore unto my purpose, I find that in corn great abuse 
is daily suffered, to the great prejudice of the town and 
country, especially the poor artificer and householder, which 
tilleth no land, but, labouring all the week to buy a bushel 
or two of grain on the market day, can there have none 
for his money : because bodgers, loaders, and common car- 
riers of corn do not only buy up all, but give above the 
price, to be served of great quantities. Shall I go any 
further? Well, I will say yet a little more, and somewhat by 
mine own experience. 

At Michaelmas time poor men must make money of their 
grain, that they may pay their rents. So long then as the 
poor man hath to sell, rich men bring out none, but 
rather buy up that which the poor bring, under pretence 
of seed corn or alteration of grain, although they bring 
none of their own, because one wheat often sown without 



258 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

change of seed will soon decay and be converted into 
darnel. For this cause therefore they must needs buy in the 
markets, though they be twenty miles off, and where they 
be not known, promising there, if they happen to be espied 
(which, God wot, is very seldom), to send so much to their 
next market, to be performed I wot not when. 

If this shift serve not (neither doth the fox use always 
one track for fear of a snare), they will compound with 
some one of the town where the market is holden, who for 
a pot of " huffcap " or " merry-go-down," will not let to 
buy it for them, and that in his own name. Or else they 
wage one poor man or other to become a bodger, and 
thereto get him a licence upon some forged surmise, which 
being done, they will feed him with money to buy for them 
till he hath filled their lofts, and then, if he can do any 
good for himself, so it is ; if not, they will give him some- 
what for his pains at this time, and reserve him for an- 
other year. How many of the like providers stumble upon 
blind creeks at the sea coast, I wot not well ; but that some 
have so done and yet do under other men's wings, the case 
is too, too plain. But who dare find fault with them, when 
they have once a licence? yes, though it be but to serve 
a mean gentleman's house with corn, who hath cast up all 
his tillage, because he boasteth how he can buy his grain 
in the market better cheap than he can sow his land, as 
the rich grazier often doth also upon the like device, be- 
cause grazing requireth a smaller household and less at- 
tendance and charge. If any man come to buy a bushel 
or two for his expenses unto the market cross, answer is 
made : " Forsooth, here was one even now that bade me 
money for it, and I hope he will have it." And to say the 
truth, these bodgers are fair chapmen ; for there are no more 
words with them, but "Let me see it! What shall I give 
you? Knit it up! I will have it — go carry it to such a 
chamber, and if you bring in twenty seme 3 more in the week- 
day to such an inn or sollar* where I lay my corn, I will 
have it, and give you ( ) pence or more in every bushel 
for six weeks' day of payment than another will." Thus the 
bodgers bear away all, so that the poor artificer and la- 

s Horse-loads. 4 Loft. 



OF FAIRS AND MARKETS 259 

bourer cannot make his provision in the markets, sith 
they will hardly nowadays sell by the bushel, nor break 
their measure; and so much the rather for that the buyer 
will look (as they say) for so much over measure in the 
bushel as the bodger will do in a quarter. Nay, the poor 
man cannot oft get any of the farmer at home, because he 
provideth altogether to serve the bodger, or hath an hope, 
grounded upon a greedy and insatiable desire of gain, that 
the sale will be better in the market, so that he must give 
twopence or a groat more in the bushel at his house than the 
last market craved, or else go without it, and sleep with 
a hungry belly. Of the common carriage of corn over unto 
the parts beyond the seas I speak not; or at the leastwise, 
if I should, I could not touch it alone, but needs must join 
other provision withal, whereby not only our friends abroad, 
but also many of our adversaries and countrymen, the pa- 
pists, are abundantly relieved (as the report goeth) ; but sith 
I see it not, I will not so trust mine ears as to write it for a 
truth. But to return to our markets again. 

By this time the poor occupier hath sold all his crop for 
need of money, being ready peradventure to buy again ere 
long. And now is the whole sale of corn in the great oc- 
cupiers' hands, who hitherto have threshed little or none 
of their own, but bought up of other men as much as they 
could come by. Henceforth also they begin to sell, not by 
the quarter or load at the first (for marring the market), 
but by the bushel or two, or a horseload at the most, thereby 
to be seen to keep the cross, either for a show, or to make 
men eager to buy, and so, as they may have it for money, not 
to regard what they pay. And thus corn waxeth dear; but 
it will be dearer the next market day. It is possible also 
that they mislike the price in the beginning for the whole 
year ensuing, as men supposing that corn will be little worth 
for this, and of better price the next year. For they have 
certain superstitious observations whereby they will give a 
guess at the sale of corn for the year following. And our 
countrymen do use commonly for barley, where I dwell, 
to judge after the price at Baldock upon St. Matthew's day ; 
and for wheat, as it is sold in seed time. They take in like 
sort experiment by sight of the first flocks of cranes that 



260 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

flee southward in winter, the age of the moon in the begin- 
ning of January, and such other apish toys as by laying 
twelve corns upon the hot hearth for the twelve months, 
etc., whereby they shew themselves to be scant good Chris- 
tians; but what care they, so that they come by money ? 
Hereupon also will they thresh out three parts of the old 
corn, towards the latter end of the summer, when new 
cometh apace to hand, and cast the same in the fourth 
unthreshed, where it shall lie until the next spring, or per- 
adventure till it must and putrify. Certes it is not dainty 
to see musty corn in many of our great markets of England 
which these great occupiers bring forth when they can keep 
it no longer. But as they are enforced oftentimes upon this 
one occasion somewhat to abate the price, so a plague is 
not seldom engendered thereby among the poorer sort that 
of necessity must buy the same, whereby many thousands of 
all degrees are consumed, of whose death (in mine opinion) 
these farmers are not unguilty. But to proceed. If they 
lay not up their grain or wheat in this manner, they have 
yet another policy, whereby they will seem to have but small 
store left in their barns : for else they will gird their sheaves 
by the band, and stack it up anew in less room, to the end it 
r ly not only seem less in quantity, but also give place 
to the corn that is yet to come into the barn or growing 
in the field. If there happen to be such plenty in the market 
on any market day that they cannot sell at their own price, 
then will they set it up in some friend's house, against an- 
other on the third day, and not bring it forth till they like of 
the sale. If they sell any at home, beside harder measure, it 
shall be dearer to the poor man that buyeth it by twopence or 
a groat in a bushel than they may sell it in the market. But, 
as these things are worthy redress, so I wish that God would 
once open their eyes that deal thus to see their own errors: 
for as yet some of them little care how many poor men 
suffer extremity, so that they fill their purses and carry 
away the gain. 

It is a world also to see how most places of the realm are 
pestered with purveyors, who take up eggs, butter, cheese, 
pigs, capons, hens, chickens, hogs, bacon, etc., in one mar- 
ket under pretence of their commissions, and suffer their 



OF FAIRS AND MARKETS 261 

wives to sell the same in another, or to poulterers of Lon- 
don. If these chapmen be absent but two or three mar- 
ket days then we may perfectly see these wares to be more 
reasonably sold, and thereunto the crosses sufficiently fur- 
nished of all things. In like sort, since the number of 
buttermen have so much increased, and since they travel 
in such wise that they come to men's houses for their butter 
faster than they can make it, it is almost incredible to see 
how the price of butter is augmented: whereas when the 
owners were enforced to bring it to the market towns, and 
fewer of these butter buyers were stirring, our butter was 
scarcely worth eighteen pence the gallon that now is worth 
three shillings fourpence and perhaps five shillings. Where- 
by also I gather that the maintenance of a superfluous 
number of dealers in most trades, tillage always excepted, 
is one of the greatest causes why the prices of things be- 
came excessive: for one of them do commonly use to outbid 
another. And whilst our country commodities are commonly 
bought and sold at our private houses, I never look to see 
this enormity redressed or the markets well furnished. 

I could say more, but this is even enough, and more per- 
adventure than I shall be well thanked for: yet true it is, 
though some think it no trespass. This moreover is to be 
lamented, that one general measure is not in use throughout 
all England, but every market town hath in manner a 
several bushel ; and the lesser it be, the more sellers it 
draweth to resort unto the same. Such also is the covetous- 
ness of many clerks of the market, that in taking a view 
of measures they will always so provide that one and the 
same bushel shall be either too big or too little at their next 
coming, and yet not depart without a fee at the first, so that 
what by their mending at one time, and impairing the same 
at another, the country is greatly charged, and few just 
measures to be had in any steed. It is oft found likewise 
that divers unconscionable dealers have one measure to sell 
by and another to buy withal; the like is also in weights, 
and yet all sealed and branded. Wherefore it were very 
good that these two were reduced unto one standard, that 
is, one bushel, one pound, one quarter, one hundred, one tale, 
one number: so should things in time fall into better order 



262 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

and fewer causes of contention be moved in this land. Of 
the complaint of such poor tenants as pay rent corn unto 
their landlords, I speak not, who are often dealt withal 
very hardly. For, beside that in measuring of ten quarters 
for the most part they lose one through the iniquity of the 
bushel (such is the greediness of the appointed receivers 
thereof), fault is found also with the goodness and cleanness 
of the grain. Whereby some piece of money must needs 
pass unto their purses to stop their mouths withal, or else 
" My lord will not like of the corn," " Thou art worthy to 
lose thy lease," etc. Or, if it be cheaper in the market 
than the rate allowed for it is in their rents, then must they 
pay money and no corn, which is no small extremity. And 
thereby we may see how each one of us endeavoureth to 
fleece and eat up another. 

Another thing there is in our markets worthy to be 
looked into, and that is the recarriage of grain from the 
same into lofts and cellars, of which before I gave some 
intimation; wherefore if it were ordered that every seller 
should make his market by an hour, or else the bailey or clerk 
of the said market to make sale thereof, according to his 
discretion, without liberty to the farmers to set up their 
corn in houses and chambers, I am persuaded that the prices 
of our grain would soon be abated. Again, if it were en- 
acted that each one should keep his next market with his 
grain (and not to run six, eight, ten, fourteen, or twenty 
miles from home to sell his corn where he doth find the 
highest price, and thereby leaveth his neighbours unfur- 
nished), I do not think but that our markets would be far 
better served than at this present they are. Finally, if men's 
barns might be indifferently viewed immediately after har- 
vest, and a note gathered by an estimate, and kept by some 
appointed and trusty person for that purpose, we should 
have much more plenty of corn in our town crosses than as 
yet is commonly seen : because each one hideth and hoardeth 
what he may, upon purpose either that it will be dearer, or 
that he shall have some privy vein by bodgers, who do 
accustomably so deal that the sea doth load away no small 
part thereof into other countries and our enemies, to the 
great hindrance of our commonwealth at home, and more 



OF FAIRS AND MARKETS 263 

likely yet to be, except some remedy be found. But what 
do I talk of these things, or desire the suppression of bodgers, 
being a minister? Certes I may speak of them right well 
as feeling the harm in that I am a buyer, nevertheless I 
speak generally in each of them. 

To conclude therefore, in our markets all things are to 
be sold necessary for man's use; and there is our provision 
made commonly for all the week ensuing. Therefore, as 
there are no great towns without one weekly market at 
least, so there are very few of them that have not one or two 
fairs or more within the compass of the year, assigned unto 
them by the prince. And albeit that some of them are not 
much better than Louse fair, 5 or the common kirkemesses, 8 
beyond the sea, yet there are divers not inferior to the great- 
est marts in Europe, as Stourbridge fair near to Cambridge, 
Bristow fair, Bartholomew fair at London, Lynn mart, Cold 
fair at Newport pond for cattle, and divers other, all which, 
or at leastwise the greatest part of them (to the end I may 
with the more ease to the reader and less travel to myself 
fulfil my task in their recital), I have set down according to 
the names of the months wherein they are holden at the 
end of this book, where you shall find them at large as I 
borrowed the same from J. Stow and the reports of others. 

5 The ancient London counterpart of the more modern " Rag Fair " known 
to literary fame. — W. 

6 The Kermess, or literally, "Church mass," so famous in "Faust." — W. 



( Q) HC XXXV 



CHAPTER V 

OF THE ANCIENT AND PRESENT ESTATE OF THE CHURCH 
OF ENGLAND 

[iS77, Book II., Chapter 5; 1585, Book II., Chapter 1.] 

THERE are now two provinces only in England, of 
which the first and greatest is subject to the see of 
Canterbury, comprehending a part of Lhoegres, whole 
Cambria, and also Ireland, which in time past were several, 
and brought into one by the archbishop of the said see, and 
assistance of the pope, who, in respect of meed, did yield 
unto the ambitious desires of sundry archbishops of Canter- 
bury, as I have elsewhere declared. The second province 
is under the see of York. And, of these, each hath her 
archbishop resident commonly within her own limits, who 
hath not only the chief dealing in matters appertaining to 
the hierarchy and jurisdiction of the church, but also great 
authority in civil affairs touching the government of the 
commonwealth, so far forth as their commissions and sev- 
eral circuits do extend. 

In old time there were three archbishops, and so many 
provinces in this isle, of which one kept at London, another 
at York, and the third at Caerleon upon Usk. But as 
that of London was translated to Canterbury by Augustine, 
and that of York remaineth (notwithstanding that the 
greatest part of his jurisdiction is now bereft him and 
given to the Scottish archbishop), so that of Caerleon is 
utterly extinguished, and the government of the country 
united to that of Canterbury in spiritual cases, after it was 
once before removed to St. David's in Wales, by David, 
successor to Dubritius, and uncle to King Arthur, in the 519 
of Grace, to the end that he and his clerks might be further 
off from the cruelty of the Saxons, where it remained till 

264 



OF THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND 265 

the time of the Bastard, and for a season after, before it was 
annexed to the see of Canterbury. 

The Archbishop of Canterbury is commonly called the 
Primate of all England; and in the coronations of the kings 
of this land, and all other times wherein it shall please the 
prince to wear and put on his crown, his office is to set it 
upon their heads. They bear also the name of their high 
chaplains continually, although not a few of them have 
presumed (in time past) to be their equals, and void of 
subjection unto them. That this is true, it may easily ap- 
pear by their own acts yet kept in record, beside their 
epistles and answers written or in print, wherein they have 
sought not only to match but also to mate 1 them with great 
rigour and more than open tyranny. Our adversaries will 
peradventure deny this absolutely, as they do many other 
things apparent, though not without shameless impudence, 
or at the leastwise defend it as just and not swerving from 
common equity, because they imagine every archbishop to 
be the king's equal in his own province. But how well their 
doing herein agreeth with the saying of Peter and examples 
of the primitive church it may easily appear. Some ex- 
amples also of their demeanour — I mean in the time of 
popery — I will not let to remember, lest they should say I 
speak of malice, and without all ground of likelihood. 

Of their practices with mean persons I speak not, neither 
will I begin at Dunstan, the author of all their pride and 
presumption here in England. . . . 

Wherefore I refer you to those reports of Anselm and 
Becket sufficiently penned by other, the which Anselm also 
making a shew as if he had been very unwilling to be placed 
in the see of Canterbury, gave this answer to the letters of 
such his friends as did make request unto him to take the 
charge upon him — 

"Secularia negotia nescio, quia scire nolo, eorum ndmque occupa- 
tiones horreo, liberum affectans animum. Voluntati sacrarum intendo 
scripturarum, vos dissonantiam facitis, verendumque est tie aratrum 
sanctce ecclesiw, quod in Anglia duo boves validi et pari fortitudine, 
ad bonum certantes, id est, rex et archiepiscopus, debeant trahere, 
nunc ove vetula cum tauro indomito jugata, distorqueatur a recto. 
Ego ovis vetula, qui si quietus essem, verbi Dei lacte, et operimento 
1 Overcome. 



266 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

lana, aliqiiibus possem fortassis non ingratus esse, sed si me cum hoc 
tauro coniungitis, videbitis pro disparilitate trahentium, aratrum non 
recte procedere," etc. 

Which is in English thus — 

" Of secular affairs I have no skill, because I will not know them ; 
for I even abhor the troubles that rise about them, as one that de- 
sireth to have his mind at liberty. I apply my whole endeavour to 
the rule of the Scriptures ; you lead me to the contrary ; and it is 
to be feared lest the plough of holy church, which two strong oxen 
of equal force, and both like earnest to contend unto that which is 
good" (that is, the king and the archbishop), ought to draw, should 
thereby now swerve from the right furrow, by matching of an old 
sheep with a wild, untamed bull. I am that old sheep, who, if I might 
be quiet, could peradventure shew myself not altogether ungrateful 
to some, by feeding them with the milk of the Word of God, and 
covering them with wool : but if you match me with this bull, you 
shall see that, through want of equality in draught, the plough will 
not go to right," etc. 

As followeth in the process of his letters. The said 
Thomas Becket was so proud that he wrote to King Henry 
the Second, as to his lord, to his king, and to his son, offer- 
ing him his counsel, his reverence, and due correction, etc. 
Others in like sort have protested that they owed nothing 
to the kings of this land, but their council only, reserving 
all obedience unto the see of Rome, whereby we may easily 
see the pride and ambition of the clergy in the blind time of 
ignorance. 

And as the old cock of Canterbury did crow in this be- 
half, so the young cockerels of other sees did imitate his 
demeanour, as may be seen by this one example also in 
King Stephen's time, worthy to be remembered; unto whom 
the Bishop of London would not so much as swear to be true 
subject: wherein also he was maintained by the pope. . . . 

Thus we see that kings were to rule no further than it 
pleased the pope to like of ; neither to challenge more obedi- 
ence of their subjects than stood also with their good will 
and pleasure. He wrote in like sort unto Queen Maud about 
the same matter, making her " Samson's calf" 2 (the better 
to bring his purpose to pass). . 

Is it not strange that a peevish order of religion (devised 

2 A fool or dupe. 



OF THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND 267 

by man) should break the express law of God, who com- 
mandeth all men to honour and obey their kings and princes, 
in whom some part of the power of God is manifest and 
laid open unto us? And even unto this end the cardinal of 
Hostia also wrote to the canons of Paul's after this man- 
ner, covertly encouraging them to stand to their election of 
the said Robert, who was no more willing to give over his 
new bishopric than they careful to offend the king, but rather 
imagined which way to keep it still, maugre his displeasure, 
and yet not to swear obedience unto him for all that he 
should be able to do or perform unto the contrary. . . . 

Hereby you see how King Stephen was dealt withal. And 
albeit the Archbishop of Canterbury is not openly to be 
touched herewith, yet it is not to be doubted but he was a 
doer in it, so far as might tend to the maintenance of the 
right and prerogative of holy church. And even no less 
unquietness had another of our princes with Thomas of 
Arundel, who fled to Rome for fear of his head, and caused 
the pope to write an ambitious and contumelious letter unto 
his sovereign about his restitution. But when (by the 
king's letters yet extant, and beginning thus: "Thomas 
proditionis non expers nostra regicc majestati insidias fabri- 
cavit" 3 ) the pope understood the bottom of the matter, he 
was contented that Thomas should be deprived, and another 
archbishop chosen in his stead. 

Neither did this pride stay at archbishops and bishops, 
but descended lower, even to the rake-hells of the clergy 
and puddles of all ungodliness. For, beside the injury re- 
ceived of their superiors, how was King John dealt withal 
by the vile Cistertians at Lincoln in the second of his reign ? 
Certes when he had (upon just occasion) conceived some 
grudge against them for their ambitious demeanour, and 
upon denial to pay such sums of money as were allotted 
unto them, he had caused seizure to be made of such horses, 
swine, neat, and other things of theirs as were maintained 
in his forests, they denounced him as fast amongst them- 
selves with bell, book, and candle, to be accursed and ex- 
communicated. Thereunto they so handled the matter with 

3 " Thomas, not innocent of treason, has intrigued against the majesty of 
our court." 



268 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

the pope and their friends that the king was fain to yield 
to their good graces, insomuch that a meeting for paci- 
fication was appointed between them at Lincoln, by means 
of the present Archbishop of Canterbury, who went off 
between him and the Cistertian commissioners before the 
matter could be finished. In the end the king himself came 
also unto the said commissioners as they sat in their chapter- 
house, and there with tears fell down at their feet, craving 
pardon for his trespasses against them, and heartily requiring 
that they would (from henceforth) commend him and his 
realm in their prayers unto the protection of the Almighty, 
and receive him into their fraternity, promising moreover 
full satisfaction of their damages sustained, and to build 
an house of their order in whatsoever place of England 
it should please them to assign. And this he confirmed by 
charter bearing date the seven-and-twentieth of November, 
after the Scottish king was returned into Scotland, and de- 
parted from the king. Whereby (and by other the like, as 
between John Stratford and Edward the Third, etc.) a man 
may easily conceive how proud the clergymen have been in 
former times, as wholly presuming upon the primacy of their 
pope. More matter could I allege of these and the like broils, 
not to be found among our common historiographers. How- 
beit, reserving the same unto places more convenient, I will 
cease to speak of them at this time, and go forward with such 
other things as my purpose is to speak of. At the first, 
therefore, there was like and equal authority in both our 
archbishops, but as he of Canterbury hath long since ob- 
tained the prerogative above York (although I say not 
without great trouble, suit, some bloodshed, and contention), 
so the Archbishop of York is nevertheless written Primate 
of England, as one contenting himself with a piece of a 
title at the least, when all could not be gotten. And as he 
of Canterbury crowneth the king, so this of York doth the 
like to the queen, whose perpetual chaplain he is, and 
hath been from time to time, since the determination of this 
controversy, as writers do report. The first also hath under 
his jurisdiction to the number of one-and-twenty inferior 
bishops; the other hath only four, by reason that the 
churches of Scotland are now removed from his obedience 



OF THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND 269 

unto an archbishop of their own, whereby the greatness 
and circuit of the jurisdiction of York is not a little di- 
minished. In like sort, each of these seven-and-twenty sees 
have their cathedral churches, wherein the deans (a calling 
not known in England before the Conquest) do bear the 
chief rule, being men especially chosen to that vocation, 
both for their learning and godliness, so near as can be 
possible. These cathedral churches have in like manner 
other dignities and canonries still remaining unto them, as 
heretofore under the popish regiment. Howbeit those that 
are chosen to the same are no idle and unprofitable persons 
(as in times past they have been when most of these livings 
were either furnished with strangers, especially out of 
Italy, boys, or such idiots as had least skill of all in dis- 
charging of those functions whereunto they were called by 
virtue of these stipends), but such as by preaching and 
teaching can and do learnedly set forth the glory of God, 
and further the overthrow of anti-Christ to the uttermost 
of their powers. 

These churches are called cathedral, because the bishops 
dwell or lie near unto the same, as bound to keep continual 
residence within their jurisdictions for the better oversight 
and governance of the same, the word being derived a 
cathedra — that is to say, a chair or seat where he resteth, 
and for the most part abideth. At the first there was but 
one church in every jurisdiction, whereinto no man entered 
to pray but with some oblation or other toward the main- 
tenance of the pastor. For as it was reputed an infamy to 
pass by any of them without visitation, so it was no less 
reproach to appear empty before the Lord. And for this 
occasion also they were builded very huge and great; for 
otherwise they were not capable to such multitude as came 
daily unto them to hear the Word and receive the sacra- 
ments. 

But as the number of Christians increased, so first monas- 
teries, then finally parish churches, were builded in every 
jurisdiction: from whence I take our deanery churches to 
have their original (now called "mother churches," and their 
incumbents, archpriests), the rest being added since the 
Conquest, either by the lords of every town, or zealous men, 



270 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

loth to travel far, and willing to have some ease by building 
them near hand. Unto these deanery churches also the 
clergy in old time of the same deanery were appointed to 
repair at sundry seasons, there to receive wholesome ordi- 
nances, and to consult upon the necessary affairs of the 
whole jurisdiction if necessity so required; and some image 
hereof is yet to be seen in the north parts. But as the 
number of churches increased, so the repair of the faithful 
unto the cathedrals did diminish ; whereby they now become, 
especially in their nether parts, rather markets and shops 
for merchandise than solemn places of prayer, whereunto 
they were first erected. Moreover, in the said cathedral 
churches upon Sundays and festival days the canons do make 
certain ordinary sermons by course, whereunto great numbers 
of all estates do orderly resort; and upon the working days, 
thrice in the week, one of the said canons (or some other in 
his stead) doth read and expound some piece of holy 
Scripture, whereunto the people do very reverently repair. 
The bishops themselves in like sort are not idle in their 
callings ; for, being now exempt from court and council, 
which is one (and a no small) piece of their felicity (al- 
though Richard Archbishop of Canterbury thought other- 
wise, as yet appeareth by his letters to Pope Alexander, 
Epistola 44, Petri Blesensis, where he saith, because the 
clergy of his time were somewhat narrowly looked unto, 
"Supra dorsum ecclesxoz fabricant peccatores," etc.), 4 ' they 
so apply their minds to the setting forth of the Word that 
there are very few of them which do not every Sunday or 
oftener resort to some place or other within their jurisdic- 
tions where they expound the Scriptures with much gravity 
and skill, and yet not without the great misliking and con- 
tempt of such as hate the Word. Of their manifold trans- 
lations from one see to another I will say nothing, which 
is not now done for the benefit of the flock as the prefer- 
ment of the party favoured and advantage unto the prince, 
a matter in time past much doubted of — to wit, whether a 
bishop or pastor might be translated from one see to another, 
and left undecided till prescription by royal authority made 
it good. For, among princes, a thing once done is well done, 

* " Sinners build on the back of the church." 



OF THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND 271 

and to be done oftentimes, though no warrant be to be found 
therefore. 

They have under them also their archdeacons, some one, 
divers two, and many four or more, as their circuits are in 
quantity, which archdeacons are termed in law the bishops' 
eyes; and these (beside their ordinary courts, which are 
holden within so many or more of their several deaneries 
by themselves or their officials once in a month at the least) 
do keep yearly two visitations or synods (as the bishop 
doth in every third year, wherein he confirmeth some chil- 
dren, though most care but a little for that ceremony), in 
which they make diligent inquisition and search, as well for 
the doctrine and behaviour of the ministers as the orderly 
dealing of the parishioners in resorting to their parish 
churches and conformity unto religion. They punish also 
with great severity all such trespassers, either in person or 
by the purse (where permutation of penance is thought 
more grievous to the offender), as are presented unto them; 
or, if the cause be of the more weight, as in cases of heresy, 
pertinacy, contempt, and such like, they refer them either 
to the bishop of the diocese, or his chancellor, or else to 
sundry grave persons set in authority, by virtue of an high 
commission directed unto them from the prince to that end, 
who in very courteous manner do see the offenders gently 
reformed or else severely punished if necessity so enforce. 

Beside this, in many of our archdeaconries, we have an 
exercise lately begun which for the most part is called a 
prophecy or conference, and erected only for the examina- 
tion or trial of the diligence of the clergy in their study 
of holy Scriptures. Howbeit, such is the thirsty desire of 
the people in these days to hear the Word of God that they 
also have as it were with zealous violence intruded themselves 
among them (but as hearers only) to come by more knowl- 
edge through their presence at the same. Herein also (for 
the most part) two of the younger sort of ministers do ex- 
pound each after other some piece of the Scriptures ordi- 
narily appointed unto them in their courses (wherein they 
orderly go through with some one of the Evangelists, or 
of the Epistles, as it pleaseth the whole assembly to choose 
at the first in every of these conferences) ; and when they 



272 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

have spent an hour or a little more between them, then 
cometh one of the better learned sort, who, being a graduate 
for the most part, or known to be a preacher sufficiently 
authorised and of a sound judgment, supplieth the room of 
a moderator, making first a brief rehearsal of their . dis- 
courses, and then adding what him thinketh good of his 
own knowledge, whereby two hours are thus commonly 
spent at this most profitable meeting. When all is done, if 
the first speakers have shewed any piece of diligence, they 
are commended for their travel, and encouraged to go for- 
ward. If they have been found to be slack, or not sound 
in delivery of their doctrine, their negligence and error is 
openly reproved before all their brethren, who go aside of 
purpose from the laity after the exercise ended to judge of 
these matters, and consult of the next speakers and quantity 
of the text to be handled in that place. The laity never 
speak, of course (except some vain and busy head will 
now and then intrude themselves with offence), but are only 
hearers ; and, as it is used in some places weekly, in other 
once in fourteen days, in divers monthly, and elsewhere 
twice in a year, so is it a notable spur unto all the ministers 
thereby to apply their books, which otherwise (as in times 
past) would give themselves to hawking, hunting, tables, 
cards, dice, tippling at the alehouse, shooting of matches, 
and other like vanities, nothing commendable in such as 
should be godly and zealous stewards of the good gifts of 
God, faithful distributors of his Word unto the people, and 
diligent pastors according to their calling. 

But alas ! as Sathan, the author of all mischief, hath in 
sundry manners heretofore hindered the erection and main- 
tenance of many good things, so in this he hath stirred up 
adversaries of late unto this most profitable exercise, who, 
not regarding the commodity that riseth thereby so well to 
the hearers as speakers, but either stumbling (I cannot tell 
how) at words and terms, or at the leastwise not liking to 
hear of the reprehension of vice, or peradventure taking a 
misliking at the slender demeanours of such negligent 
ministers as now and then in their course do occupy the 
rooms, have either by their own practice, their sinister in- 
formation, or suggestions made upon surmises unto other, 



OF THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND 273 

procured the suppression of these conferences, condemning 
them as hurtful, pernicious, and daily breeders of no small 
hurt and inconvenience. But hereof let God be judge, unto 
the cause belongeth. 

Our elders or ministers and deacons (for subdeacons and 
the other inferior orders sometime used in popish church 
we have not) are made according to a certain form of con- 
secration concluded upon in the time of King Edward the 
Sixth by the clergy of England, and soon after confirmed 
by the three estates of the realm in the high court of par- 
liament. And out of the first sort — that is to say, of such 
as are called to the ministry (without respect whether they 
be married or not) — are bishops, deans, archdeacons, and 
such as have the higher places in the hierarchy of the 
church elected; and these also, as all the rest, at the first 
coming unto any spiritual promotion do yield unto the prince 
the entire tax of that their living for one whole year, if it 
amount in value unto ten pounds and upwards, and this 
under the name and title of first fruits. 

With us also it is permitted that a sufficient man may (by 
dispensation from the prince) hold two livings, not distant 
either from other above thirty miles; whereby it cometh to 
pass that, as her Majesty doth reap some commodity by the 
faculty, so that the unition of two in one man doth bring 
oftentimes more benefit to one of them in a month (I mean 
for doctrine) than they have had before peradventure in 
many years. 

Many exclaim against such faculties, as if there were 
more good preachers that want maintenance than livings to 
maintain them. Indeed when a living is void there are so 
many suitors for it that a man would think the report to be 
true, and most certain; but when it cometh to the trial (who 
are sufficient and who not, who are staid men in conversa- 
tion, judgment, and learning), of that great number you 
shall hardly find one or two such as they ought to be, and 
yet none more earnest to make suit, to promise largely, 
bear a better shew, or find fault with the stage of things 
than they. Nevertheless I do not think that their exclama- 
tions, if they were wisely handled, are altogether grounded 
upon rumours or ambitious minds, if you respect the state 



274 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

of the thing itself, and not the necessity growing through 
want of able men to furnish out all the cures in England, 
which both our universities are never able to perform. For 
if you observe what numbers of preachers Cambridge and 
Oxford do yearly send forth, and how many new composi- 
tions are made in the Court of First Fruits by the deaths of 
the last incumbents, you shall soon see a difference. Where- 
fore, if in country towns and cities, yea even in London 
itself, four or five of the little churches were brought into 
one, the inconvenience would in great part be redressed and 
amended. 

And, to say truth, one most commonly of those small 
livings is of so little value that it is not able to maintain a 
mean scholar, much less a learned man, as not being above 
ten, twelve, sixteen, seventeen, twenty, or thirty pounds at 
the most, toward their charges, which now (more than be- 
fore time) do go out of the same. I say more than before, 
because every small trifle, nobleman's request, or courtesy 
craved by the bishop, doth impose and command a twentieth 
part, a three score part, or twopence in the pound, etc., out 
of the livings, which hitherto hath not been usually granted, 
but by the consent of a synod, wherein things were decided 
according to equity, and the poorer sort considered of, 
which now are equally burdened. 

We pay also the tenths of our livings to the prince yearly, 
according to such valuation of each of them as hath been 
lately made : which nevertheless in time past were not annual, 
but voluntary, and paid at request of king or pope. 8 . . . 

But to return to our tenths, a payment first as devised by 
the pope, and afterward taken up as by the prescription of 
the king, whereunto we may join also our first fruits, which 
is one whole year's commodity of our living, due at our 
entrance into the same, the tenths abated unto the prince's 
coffers, and paid commonly in two years. For the receipt 
also of these two payments an especial office or court is 
erected, which beareth name of First Fruits and Tenths, 
whereunto, if the party to be preferred do not make his 
dutiful repair by an appointed time after possession taken, 

B Here follows a story about the bootless errand of a pope's legate in 
1452. — W. 



OF THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND 275 

there to compound for the payment of his said fruits, he 
incurreth the danger of a great penalty, limited by a certain 
statute provided in that behalf against such as do intrude 
into the ecclesiastical function and refuse to pay the ac- 
customed duties belonging to the same. 

They pay likewise subsidies with the temporalty, but in 
such sort that if these pay after four shillings for land, 
the clergy contribute commonly after six shillings of the 
pound, so that of a benefice of twenty pounds by the year 
the incumbent thinketh himself well acquitted if, all ordinary 
payments being discharged, he may reserve thirteen pounds 
six shillings eightpence towards his own sustentation or 
maintenance of his family. Seldom also are they without 
the compass of a subsidy; for if they be one year clear 
from this payment (a thing not often seen of late years), 
they are like in the next to hear of another grant : so that I 
say again they are seldom without the limit of a subsidy. 
Herein also they somewhat find themselves grieved that 
the laity may at every taxation help themselves, and so 
they do, through consideration had of their decay and hin- 
drance, and yet their impoverishment cannot but touch also 
the parson or vicar, unto whom such liberty is denied, as 
is daily to be seen in their accounts and tithings. 

Some of them also, after the marriages of their children, 
will have their proportions qualified, or by friendship get 
themselves quite out of the book. But what stand I upon 
these things, who have rather to complain of the injury 
offered by some of our neighbours of the laity, which daily 
endeavour to bring us also within the compass of their 
fifteens or taxes for their own ease, whereas the tax of the 
whole realm, which is commonly greater in the champagne 
than woodland soil, amounteth only to 37,930 pounds nine- 
pence halfpenny, is a burden easy enough to be borne upon 
so many shoulders, without the help of the clergy, whose 
tenths and subsidies make up commonly a double, if not 
treble sum unto their aforesaid payments? Sometimes also 
we are threatened with a Melius inquirendum, as if our 
livings were not racked high enough already. But if a man 
should seek out where all those church lands which in time 
past did contribute unto the old sum required or to be made 



276 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

up, no doubt no small number of the laity of all states 
should be contributors also with us, the prince not defrauded 
of her expectation and right. We are also charged with 
armour and munitions from thirty pounds upwards, a thing 
more needful than divers other charges imposed upon us 
are convenient, by which and other burdens our ease 
groweth to be more heavy by a great deal (notwithstanding 
our immunity from temporal services) than that of the 
laity, and, for aught that I see, not likely to be diminished, 
as if the church were now become the ass whereon every 
market man is to ride and cast his wallet. 

The other payments due unto the archbishop and bishop 
at their several visitations (of which the first is double to 
the latter), and such also as the archdeacon receive that his 
synods, etc., remain still as they did without any alteration. 
Only this I think he added within memory of man, that at 
the coming of every prince his appointed officers do com- 
monly visit the whole realm under the form of an eccle- 
siastical inquisition, in which the clergy do usually pay 
double fees, as unto the archbishop. 

Hereby then, and by those already remembered, it is 
found that the Church of England is no less commodious 
to the prince's coffers than the state of the laity, if it do 
not far exceed the same, since their payments are certain, 
continual, and seldom abated, howsoever they gather up 
their own duties with grudging, murmuring, suit, and 
slanderous speeches of the payers, or have their livings 
otherwise hardly valued unto the uttermost farthing, or 
shrewdly cancelled by the covetousness of the patrons, of 
whom some do bestow advowsons of benefices upon their 
bakers, butlers, cooks, good archers, falconers, and horse- 
keepers, instead of other recompense, for their long and 
faithful service, which they employ afterward unto the most 
advantage. 

Certes here they resemble the pope very much ; for, as he 
sendeth out his idols, so do they their parasites, pages, 
chamberlains, stewards, grooms, and lackeys; and yet these 
be the men that first exclaim of the insufficiency of the 
ministers, as hoping thereby in due time to get also their 
glebes and grounds into their hands. In times past bishop- 



OF THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND 277 

rics went almost after the same manner under the lay 
princes, and then under the pope, so that he which helped a 
clerk unto a see was sure to have a present or purse fine, if 
not an annual pension, besides that which went to the pope's 
coffers, and was thought to be very good merchandise. 

To proceed therefore with the rest, I think it good also 
to remember that the names usually given unto such as 
feed the flock remain in like sort as in times past, so that 
these words, parson, vicar, curate, and such, are not yet 
abolished more than the canon law itself, which is daily 
pleaded, as I have said elsewhere, although the statutes of 
the realm have greatly infringed the large scope and brought 
the exercise of the same into some narrower limits. There 
is nothing read in our churches but the canonical Scriptures, 
whereby it cometh to pass that the Psalter is said over once 
in thirty days, the New Testament four times, and the Old 
Testament once in the year. And hereunto, if the curate 
be adjudged by the bishop or his deputies sufficiently in- 
structed in the holy Scriptures, and therewithal able to 
teach, he permitteth him to make some exposition or ex- 
hortation in his parish unto amendment of life. And for 
so much as our churches and universities have been so 
spoiled in time of error, as there cannot yet be had such 
number of able pastors as may suffice for every parish to 
have one, there are (beside four sermons appointed by 
public order in the year) certain sermons or homilies (de- 
vised by sundry learned men, confirmed for sound doctrine 
by consent of the divines, and public authority of the 
prince), and those appointed to be read by the curates of 
mean understanding (which homilies do comprehend the 
principal parts of Christian doctrine, as of original sin, of 
justification by faith, of charity, and such like) upon the 
Sabbath days unto the congregation. And, after a certain 
number of psalms read, which are limited according to the 
dates of the month, for morning and evening prayer we 
have two lessons, whereof the first is taken out of the Old 
Testament, the second out of the New; and of these latter, 
that in the morning is out of the Gospels, the other in the 
afternoon out of some one of the Epistles. After morning 
prayer also, we have the Litany and suffrages, an invoca- 



278 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

tion in mine opinion not devised without the great assistance 
of the Spirit of God, although many curious mind-sick per- 
sons utterly condemn it as superstitious, and savouring of 
conjuration and sorcery. 

This being done, we proceed unto the communion, if any 
communicants be to receive the Eucharist; if not, we read 
the Decalogue, Epistle, and Gospel, with the Nicene Creed 
(of some in derision called the "dry communion"), and 
then proceed unto an homily or sermon, which hath a psalm 
before and after it, and finally unto the baptism of such 
infants as on every Sabbath day (if occasion so require) 
are brought unto the churches; and thus is the forenoon 
bestowed. In the afternoon likewise we meet again, and, 
after the psalms and lessons ended, we have commonly a 
sermon, or at the leastwise our youth catechised by the 
space of an hour. And thus do we spend the Sabbath day in 
good and godly exercises, all done in our vulgar tongue, 
that each one present may hear and understand the same, 
which also in cathedral and collegiate churches is so or- 
dered that the psalms only are sung by note, the rest being 
read (as in common parish churches) by the minister with 
a loud voice, saving that in the administration of the com- 
munion the choir singeth the answers, the creed, and sundry 
other things appointed, but in so plain, I say, and distinct 
manner that each one present may understand what they 
sing, every word having but one note, though the whole 
harmony consist of many parts, and those very cunningly set 
by the skilful in that science. 

Certes this translation of the service of the church into the 
vulgar tongue hath not a little offended the pope almost in 
every age, as a thing very often attempted by divers princes, 
but never generally obtained, for fear lest the consenting 
thereunto might breed the overthrow (as it would indeed) 
of all his religion and hierarchy; nevertheless, in some places 
where the kings and princes dwelled not under his nose, 
it was performed maugre his resistance. Wratislaus, Duke 
of Bohemia, would long since have done the like also in his 
kingdom ; but, not daring to venture so far without the con- 
sent of the pope, he wrote unto him thereof, and received his 
answer inhibitory unto all his proceeding in the same. . . . 



OF THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND 279 

I would set down two or three more of the like in- 
struments passed from that see unto the like end, but this 
shall suffice, being less common than the other, which are 
to be had more plentifully. 

As for our churches themselves, bells and times of morn", 
ing and evening prayer remain as in times past, saving that 
all images, shrines, tabernacles, rood-lofts, and monuments 
of idolatry are removed, taken down, and defaced, only the 
stories in glass windows excepted, which, for want of suffi- 
cient store of new stuff, and by reason of extreme charge 
that should grow by the alteration of the same into white 
panes throughout the realm, are not altogether abolished 
in most places at once, but by little and little suffered to 
decay, that white glass may be provided and set up in their 
rooms. Finally, whereas there was wont to be a great parti- 
tion between the choir and the body of the church, now it 
is either very small or none at all, and (to say the truth) 
altogether needless, sith the minister saith his service com- 
monly in the body of the church, with his face toward the 
people, in a little tabernacle of wainscot provided for the 
purpose, by which means the ignorant do not only learn 
divers of the psalms and usual prayers by heart, but also 
such as can read do pray together with him, so that the 
whole congregation at one instant pour out their petitions 
unto the living God for the whole estate of His church in 
most earnest and fervent manner. Our holy and festival 
days are very well reduced also unto a less number; for 
whereas (not long since) we had under the pope four score 
and fifteen, called festival, and thirty profesti, beside the 
Sundays, they are all brought unto seven and twenty, and, 
with them, the superfluous numbers of idle wakes, guilds, 
fraternities, church-ales, help-ales, and soul-ales, called also 
dirge-ales, with the heathenish rioting at bride-ales, are 
well diminished and laid aside. And no great matter were 
it if the feasts of all our apostles, evangelists, and martyrs, 
with that of all saints, were brought to the holy days that 
follow upon Christmas, Easter, and Whitsuntide, and those 
of the Virgin Mary, with the rest, utterly removed from the 
calendars, as neither necessary nor commendable in a re- 
formed church. 

(r) hc xxxv 



280 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

The apparel in like sort of our clergymen is comely, and, 
in truth, more decent than ever it was in the popish church, 
before the universities bound their graduates unto a stable 
attire, afterward usurped also even by the blind Sir Johns. 
For, if you peruse well my Chronology ensuing, you shall 
find that they went either in divers colours like players, 
or in garments of light hue, as yellow, red, green, etc., 
with their shoes piked, their hair crisped, their girdles 
armed with silver, their shoes, spurs, bridles, etc., buckled 
with like metal, their apparel (for the most part) of silk, 
and richly furred, their caps laced and buttoned with gold, 
so that to meet a priest in those days was to behold a pea- 
cock that spreadeth his tail when he danceth before the hen, 
which now (I say) is well reformed. Touching hospitality, 
there was never any greater used in England, sith by reason 
that marriage is permitted to him that will choose that kind 
of life, their meat and drink is more orderly and frugally 
dressed, their furniture of household more convenient and 
better looked unto, and the poor oftener fed generally than 
heretofore they have been, when only a few bishops and 
double or treble beneficed men did make good cheer at 
Christmas only, or otherwise kept great houses for the en- 
tertainment of the rich, which did often see and visit them. 
It is thought much peradventure that some bishops, etc., 
in our time do come short of the ancient gluttony and 
prodigality of their predecessors; but to such as do con- 
sider of the curtailing of their livings, or excessive prices 
whereunto things are grown, and how their course is limited 
by law, and estate looked into on every side, the cause of 
their so doing is well enough perceived. This also offended 
many, that they should, after their deaths, leave their sub- 
stances to their wives and children, whereas they consider 
not that in old time such as had no lemans nor bastards 
(very few were there, God wot, of this sort) did leave 
their goods and possessions to their brethren and kinsfolks, 
whereby (as I can shew by good record) many houses of 
gentility have grown and been erected. If in any age some 
one of them did found a college, almshouse, or school, if 
you look unto these our times, you shall see no fewer deeds 
of charity done, nor better grounded upon the right stub of 



OF THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND 281 

piety than before. If you say that their wives be fond, 
after the decease of their husbands, and bestow themselves 
not so advisedly as their calling requireth (which, God 
knoweth, these curious surveyors make small account of 
truth, further than thereby to gather matter of reprehen- 
sion), I beseech you then to look into all states of the laity, 
and tell me whether some duchesses, countesses, barons' or 
knights' wives, do not fully so often offend in the like as 
they? For Eve will be Eve, though Adam would say nay. 
Not a few also find fault with our threadbare gowns, as if 
not our patrons but our wives were causes of our woe. But 
if it were known to all that I know to have been performed 
of late in Essex, where a minister taking a benefice (of less 
than twenty pounds in the Queen's books, so far as I re- 
member) was enforced to pay to his patron twenty quarters 
of oats, ten quarters of wheat, and sixteen yearly of barley 
(which he called hawks' meat), and another let the like in 
farm to his patron for ten pounds by the year which is 
well worth forty at the least, the cause of our threadbare 
gowns would easily appear: for such patrons do scrape the 
wool from our cloaks. Wherefore I may well say that 
such a threadbare minister is either an ill man or hath an 
ill patron, or both; and when such cooks and cobbling 
shifters shall be removed and weeded out of the ministry, 
I doubt not but our patrons will prove better men, and be 
reformed whether they will or not, or else the single-minded 
bishops shall see the living bestowed upon such as do de- 
serve it. When the Pragmatic Sanction took place first in 
France, it was supposed that these enormities should utterly 
have ceased; but when the elections of bishops came once 
into the hands of the canons and spiritual men, it grew 
to be far worse. For they also, within a while waxing 
covetous, by their own experience learned aforehand, raised 
the markets, and sought after new gains by the gifts of the 
greatest livings in that country, wherein (as Machiavelli 
writeth) are eighteen archbishoprics, one hundred forty and 
five bishoprics, 740 abbeys, eleven universities, 1,000,700 
steeples (if his report be sound). Some are of the opinion 
that, if sufficient men in every town might be sent for from 
the universities, this mischief would soon be remedied; but 



282 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

I am clean of another mind. For, when I consider where- 
unto the gifts of fellowships in some places are grown, the 
profit that ariseth at sundry elections of scholars out of 
grammar schools to the posers, schoolmasters, and preferers 
of them to our universities, the gifts of a great number of 
almshouses builded for the maimed and impotent soldiers 
by princes and good men heretofore moved with a pitiful 
consideration of the poor distressed, how rewards, pensions, 
and annuities also do reign in other cases whereby the giver 
is brought sometimes into extreme misery, and that not so 
much as the room of a common soldier is not obtained often- 
times without a " What will you give met" I am brought 
into such a mistrust of the sequel of this device that I dare 
pronounce (almost for certain) that, if Homer were now 
alive, it should be said to him: 

"Tuque licet venias musis comitatus Homere, 
Si nihil attuleris, ibis Homere foras ! " 

More I could say, and more I would say, of these and 
other things, were it not that in mine own judgment I have 
said enough already for the advertisement of such as be 
wise. Nevertheless, before I finish this chapter, I will add 
a word or two (so briefly as I can) of the old estate of 
cathedral churches, which I have collected together here 
and there among the writers, and whereby it shall easily 
be seen what they were, and how near the government of 
ours do in these days approach unto them; for that there is 
an irreconcilable odds between them and those of the 
Papists, I hope there is no learned man indeed but will 
acknowledge and yield unto it. 

We find therefore in the time of the primitive church 
that there was in every see or jurisdiction one school at the 
least, whereunto such as were catechists in Christian re- 
ligion did resort. And hereof, as we may find great testi- 
mony for Alexandria, Antioch, Rome, and Jerusalem, so no 
small notice is left of the like in the inferior sort, if the 
names of such as taught in them be called to mind, and the 
histories well read which make report of the same. These 
schools were under the jurisdiction of the bishops, and from 
thence did they and the rest of the elders choose out such 



OF THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND 283 

as were the ripest scholars, and willing to serve in the 
ministry, whom they placed also in their cathedral churches, 
there not only to be further instructed in the knowledge 
of the world, but also to inure them to the delivery of the 
same unto the people in sound manner, to minister the sacra- 
ments, to visit the sick and brethren imprisoned, and to per- 
form such other duties as then belonged to their charges. 
The bishop himself and elders of the church were also 
hearers and examiners of their doctrine; and, being in 
process of time found meet workmen for the Lord's harvest, 
they were forthwith sent abroad (after imposition of hands 
and prayer generally made for their good proceeding) to 
some place or other then destitute of her pastor, and other 
taken from the school also placed in their rooms. What 
number of such clerks belonged now and then to some one 
see, the Chronology following shall easily declare; and, in 
like sort, what officers, widows, and other persons were daily 
maintained in those seasons by the offerings and oblations 
of the faithful it is incredible to be reported, if we compare 
the same with the decays and oblations seen and practised 
at this present. But what is that in all the world which 
avarice and negligence will not corrupt and impair? And, 
as this is a pattern of the estate of the cathedral churches 
in those times, so I wish that the like order of government 
might once again be restored unto the same, which may be 
done with ease, sith the schools are already builded in every 
diocese, the universities, places of their preferment unto 
further knowledge, and the cathedral churches great enough 
to receive so many as shall come from thence to be in- 
structed unto doctrine. But one hindrance of this is already 
and more and more to be looked for (beside the plucking 
and snatching commonly seen from such houses and the 
church), and that is, the general contempt of the ministry, 
and small consideration of their former pains taken, 
whereby less and less hope of competent maintenance by 
preaching the word is likely to ensue. Wherefore the 
greatest part of the more excellent wits choose rather to 
employ their studies unto physic and the laws, utterly giving 
over the study of the Scriptures, for fear lest they should 
in time not get their bread by the same. By this means 



284 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

also the stalls in their choirs would be better filled, which 
now (for the most part) are empty, and prebends should be 
prebends indeed, there to live till they were preferred to 
some ecclesiastical function, and then other men chosen 
to succeed them in their rooms, whereas now prebends are 
but superfluous additiments unto former excesses, and per- 
petual commodities unto the owners, which before time 
were but temporal (as I have said before). But as I have 
good leisure to wish for these things, so it shall be a longer 
time before it will be brought to pass. Nevertheless, as I 
will pray for a reformation in this behold, so will I here 
conclude my discourse on the estate of our churches. 



CHAPTER VI 

OF THE FOOD AND DIET OF THE ENGLISH 
[1577, Book III., Chapter 1 ; 1587, Book II., Chapter 6.] 

THE situation of our region, lying near unto the north, 
doth cause the heat of our stomachs to be of somewhat 
greater force: therefore our bodies do crave a little 
more ample nourishment than the inhabitants of the hotter 
regions are accustomed withal, whose digestive force is not 
altogether so vehement, because their internal heat is not so 
strong as ours, which is kept in by the coldness of the air 
that from time to time (especially in winter) doth environ 
our bodies. 

It is no marvel therefore that our tables are oftentimes 
more plentifully garnished than those of other nations, and 
this trade hath continued with us even since the very be- 
ginning. For, before the Romans found out and knew the 
way unto our country, our predecessors fed largely upon 
flesh and milk, whereof there was great abundance in this 
isle, because they applied their chief studies unto pasturage 
and feeding. After this manner also did our Welsh Britons 
order themselves in their diet so long as they lived of 
themselves, but after they became to be united and made 
equal with the English they framed their appetites to live 
after our manner, so that at this day there is very little 
difference between us in our diets. 

In Scotland likewise -they have given themselves (of late 
years to speak of) unto very ample and large diet, wherein 
as for some respect nature doth make them equal with us, 
so otherwise they far exceed us in over much and dis- 
temperate gormandise, and so ingross their bodies that 
divers of them do oft become unapt to any other purpose than 
to spend their times in large tabling and belly cheer. Against 

285 



286 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

this pampering of their carcasses doth Hector Boethius in 
his description of the country very sharply inveigh in the 
first chapter of that treatise. Henry Wardlaw also, bishop 
of St. Andrews, noting their vehement alteration from 
competent frugality into excessive gluttony to be brought 
out of England with James the First (who had been long 
time prisoner there under the fourth and fifth Henries, and 
at his return carried divers English gentlemen into his 
country with him, whom he very honourably preferred 
there), doth vehemently exclaim against the same in open 
Parliament holden at Perth, 1433, before the three estates, 
and so bringeth his purpose to pass in the end, by force of 
his learned persuasions, that a law was presently made 
there for the restraint of superfluous diet; amongst other 
things, baked meats (dishes never before this man's days 
seen in Scotland) were generally so provided for by virtue 
of this Act that it was not lawful for any to eat of the 
same under the degree of a gentleman, and those only but 
on high and festival days. But, alas, it was soon forgotten ! 
In old time these north Britons did give themselves uni- 
versally to great abstinence, and in time of wars their 
soldiers would often feed but once or twice at the most in 
two or three days (especially if they held themselves in 
secret, or could have no issue out of their bogs and marshes, 
through the presence of the enemy), and in this distress 
they used to eat a certain kind of confection, whereof so 
much as a bean would qualify their hunger above common 
expectation. In woods moreover they lived with herbs and 
roots, or, if these shifts served not through want of such 
provision at hand, then used they to creep into the water 
or said moorish plots up unto the chins, and there remain 
a long time, only to qualify the heats of their stomachs by 
violence, which otherwise would have wrought and been 
ready to oppress them for hunger and want of sustenance. 
In those days likewise it was taken for a great offence over 
all to eat either goose, hare, or hen, because of a certain 
superstitious opinion which they had conceived of those 
three creatures; howbeit after that the Romans, I say, had 
once found an entrance into this island it was not long ere 
open shipwreck was made of this religious observation, so 



OF FOOD AND DIET 287 

that in process of time so well the north and south Britons 
as the Romans gave over to make such difference in meats 
as they had done before. 

From thenceforth also unto our days, and even in this 
season wherein we live, there is no restraint of any meat 
either for religious sake or public order in England, but it 
is lawful for every man to feed upon whatsoever he is able 
to purchase, except it be upon those days whereon eating of 
flesh is especially forbidden by the laws of the realm, which 
order is taken only to the end our numbers of cattle may 
be the better increased and that abundance of fish which the 
sea yieldeth more generally received. Besides this, there 
is great consideration had in making this law for the pres- 
ervation of the navy and maintenance of convenient num- 
bers of seafaring men, both which would otherwise greatly 
decay if some means were not found whereby they might 
be increased. But, howsoever this case standeth, white 
meats, milk, butter, and cheese (which were never so dear 
as in my time, and wont to be accounted of as one of the 
chief stays throughout the island) are now reputed as food 
appertinent only to the inferior sort, whilst such as are 
more wealthy do feed upon the flesh of all kinds of cattle 
accustomed to be eaten, all sorts of fish taken upon our 
coasts and in our fresh rivers, and such diversity of wild 
and tame fowls as are either bred in our island or brought 
over unto us from other countries of the main.' 

In number of dishes and change of meat the nobility of 
England (whose cooks are for the most part musical-headed 
Frenchmen and strangers) do most exceed, sith there is no 
day in manner that passeth over their heads wherein they 
have not only beef, mutton, veal, lamb, kid, pork, cony, 
capon, pig, or so many of these as the season yieldeth, but 
also some portion of the red or fallow deer, beside great 
variety of fish and wild fowl, and thereto sundry other deli- 
cates wherein the sweet hand of the seafaring Portugal is 
not wanting: so that for a man to dine with one of them, 
and to taste of every dish that standeth before him (which 
few used to do, but each one feedeth upon that meat him 
best liketh for the time, the beginning of every dish not- 
withstanding being reserved unto the greatest personage 



288 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

that sitteth at the table, to whom it is drawn up still by the 
waiters as order requireth, and from whom it descendeth 
again even to the lower end, whereby each one may taste 
thereof), is rather to yield unto a conspiracy with a great 
deal of meat for the speedy suppression of natural health 
than the use of a necessary mean to satisfy himself with a 
competent repast to sustain his body withal. But, as this 
large feeding is not seen in their guests, no more is it in 
their own persons; for, sith they have daily much resort 
unto their tables (and many times unlooked for), and 
thereto retain great numbers of servants, it is very requisite 
and expedient for them to be somewhat plentiful in this 
behalf. 

The chief part likewise of their daily provision is brought 
in before them (commonly in silver vessels, if they be of 
the degree of barons, bishops, and upwards) and placed on 
their tables, whereof, when they have taken what it pleaseth 
them, the rest is reserved, and afterwards sent down to their 
serving men and waiters, who feed thereon in like sort with 
convenient moderation, their reversion also being bestowed 
upon the poor which lie ready at their gates in great num- 
bers to receive the same. This is spoken of the principal 
tables whereat the nobleman, his lady, and guests are ac- 
customed to sit; besides which they have a certain ordinary 
allowance daily appointed for their halls, where the chief 
officers and' household servants (for all are not permitted 
by custom to wait upon their master), and with them such 
inferior guests do feed as are not of calling to associate 
the nobleman himself ; so that, besides those afore-men- 
tioned, which are called to the principal table, there are 
commonly forty or three score persons fed in those halls, 
to the great relief of such poor suitors and strangers also 
as oft be partakers thereof and otherwise like to dine hardly. 
As for drink, it is usually filled in pots, goblets, jugs, bowls 
of silver, in noblemen's houses ; also in fine Venice glasses 
of all forms ; artd, for want of these elsewhere, in pots of 
earth of sundry colours and moulds, whereof many are 
garnished with silver, or at the leastwise in pewter, all 
which notwithstanding are seldom set on the table, but 
each one, as necessity urgeth, calleth for a cup of such 



OF FOOD AND DIET 289 

drink as him listeth to have, so that, when he has tasted 
of it, he delivered the cup again to some one of the standers 
by, who, making it clean by pouring out the drink that 
remaineth, restoreth it to the cupboard from whence he 
fetched the same. By this device (a thing brought up at 
the first by Mnesitheus of Athens, in conservation of the 
honour of Orestes, who had not yet made expiation for the 
death of his adulterous parents, ^Egisthus and Clytemnestra) 
much idle tippling is furthermore cut off; for, if the full 
pots should continually stand at the elbow or near the 
trencher, divers would always be dealing with them, 
whereas now they drink seldom, and only when necessity 
urgeth, and so avoid the note of great drinking, or often 
troubling of the servitors with filling of their bowls. Never- 
theless in the noblemen's halls this order is not used, neither 
is any man's house commonly under the degree of a knight 
or esquire of great revenues. It is a world to see in these 
our days, wherein gold and silver most aboundeth, how that 
our gentility, as loathing those metals (because of the 
plenty) do now generally choose rather the Venice glasses, 
both for our wine and beer, than any of those metals or 
stone wherein before time we have been accustomed to 
drink; but such is the nature of man generally that it most 
coveteth things difficult to be attained; and such is the esti- 
mation of this stuff that many become rich only with their 
new trade unto Murana (a town near to Venice, situate on 
the Adriatic Sea), from whence the very best are daily to 
be had, and such as for beauty do well near match the crystal 
or the ancient murrhina vasa whereof now no man hath 
knowledge. And as this is seen in the gentility, so in the 
wealthy communalty the like desire of glass is not neglected, 
whereby the gain gotten by their purchase is yet much 
more increased to the benefit of the merchant. The 
poorest also will have glass if they may ; but, sith the Vene- 
tian is somewhat too dear for them, they content themselves 
with such as are made at home of fern and burned stone; 
but in fine all go one way — that is, to shards at the last, 
so that our great expenses in glasses (beside that they breed 
much strife toward such as have the charge of them) are 
worst of all bestowed in mine opinion, because their pieces 



290 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

do turn unto no profit. If the philosopher's stone were once 
found, and one part hereof mixed with forty of molten glass, 
it would induce such a metallical toughness thereunto that 
a fall should nothing hurt it in such manner; yet it might 
peradventure bunch or batter it; nevertheless that incon- 
venience were quickly to be redressed by the hammer. But 
whither am I slipped? 

The gentlemen and merchants keep much about one rate, 
and each of them contenteth himself with four, five, or six 
dishes, when they have but small resort, or peradventure 
with one, or two, or three at the most, when they have no 
strangers to accompany them at their tables. And yet their 
servants have their ordinary diet assigned, beside such as is 
left at their master's boards, and not appointed to be brought 
thither the second time, which nevertheless is often seen, 
generally in venison, lamb, or some especial dish, whereon 
the merchantman himself liketh to feed when it is cold, or 
peradventure for sundry causes incident to the feeder is 
better so than if it were warm or hot. To be short, at such 
times as the merchants do make their ordinary or voluntary 
feasts, it is a world to see what great provision is made of 
all manner of delicate meats, from every quarter of the 
country, wherein, beside that they are often comparable 
herein to the nobility of the land, they will seldom regard 
anything that the butcher usually killeth, but reject the same 
as not worthy to come in place. In such cases also jellies of 
all colours, mixed with a variety in the representation of 
sundry flowers, herbs, trees, forms of beasts, fish, fowls, 
and fruits, and thereunto marchpane wrought with no small 
curiosity, tarts of divers hues, and sundry denominations, 
conserves of old fruits, foreign and home-bred, suckets, 
codinacs, marmalades, marchpane, sugar-bread, gingerbread, 
florentines, wild fowls, venison of all sorts, and sundry 
outlandish confections, altogether seasoned with sugar 
(which Pliny calleth mel ex arundinibus, a device not com- 
mon nor greatly used in old time at the table, but only in 
medicine, although it grew in Arabia, India, and Sicilia), 
do generally bear the sway, besides infinite devices of our 
own not possible for me to remember. Of the potato, and 
such venerous roots as are brought out of Spain, Portugal, 



OF FOOD AND DIET 291 

and the Indies to furnish up our banquets, I speak not, 
wherein our mures 1 of no less force, and to be had about 
Crosby-Ravenswath, do now begin to have place. 

But among all these, the kind of meat which is obtained 
with most difficulty and costs, is commonly taken for the 
most delicate, and thereupon each guest will soonest desire 
to feed. And as all estates do exceed herein, I mean for 
strangeness and number of costly dishes, so these forget 
not to use the like excess in wine, insomuch as there is no 
kind to be had, neither anywhere more store of all sorts 
than in England, although we have none growing with us 
but yearly to the proportion of 20,000 or 30,000 tun and 
upwards, notwithstanding the daily restraints of the same 
brought over unto us, whereof at great meetings there is 
not some store to be had. Neither do I mean this of small 
wines only, as claret, white, red, French, etc., which amount 
to about fifty-six sorts, according to the number of regions 
from whence they came, but also of the thirty kinds of 
Italian, Grecian, Spanish, Canarian, etc., whereof vernage, 
catepument, raspis, muscadell, romnic, bastard lire, osy 
caprie, clary, and malmesey, are not least of all accompted 
of, because of their strength and valour. For, as I have 
said in meat, so, the stronger the wine is, the more it is 
desired, by means whereof, in old time, the best was called 
theologicum, because it -was had from the clergy and re- 
ligious men, unto whose houses many of the laity would 
often send for bottles filled with the same, being sure they 
would neither drink nor be served of the worst, or such as 
was any ways mingled or brewed by the vinterer: nay, the 
merchant would have thought that his soul should have 
gone straightway to the devil if he should have served them 
with other than the best. Furthermore, when these have 
had their course which nature yieldeth, sundry sorts of arti- 
ficial stuff as ypocras and wormwood wine must in like 
manner succeed in their turns, beside stale ale and strong 
beer, which nevertheless bear the greatest brunt in drinking, 
and are of so many sorts and ages as it pleaseth the brewer 
to make them. 

1 Sweet cicely, sometimes miscalled myrrh. Mure is the Saxon word. At 
one time the plant was not uncommon as a salad. — W. 



292 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

The beer that is used at noblemen's tables in their fixed 
and standing houses is commonly a year old, or perad- 
venture of two years' tunning or more; but this is not gen- 
eral. It is also brewed in March, and therefore called 
March beer; but, for the household, it is usually not under 
a month's age, each one coveting to have the same stale as 
he may, so that it be not sour, and his bread new as is pos- 
sible, so that it be not hot. 

The artificer and husbandman makes greatest account of 
such meat as they may soonest come by, and have it quick- 
liest ready, except it be in London when the companies of 
every trade do meet on their quarter days, at which time 
they be nothing inferior to the nobility. Their food also 
consisteth principally in beef, and such meat as the butcher 
selleth — that is to say, mutton, veal, lamb, pork, etc., whereof 
he findeth great store in the markets adjoining, beside sows, 
brawn, bacon, fruit, pies of fruit, fowls of sundry sorts, 
cheese, butter, eggs, etc., as the other wanteth it not at 
home, by his own provision which is at the best hand, and 
commonly least charge. In feasting also, this latter sort, 
I mean the husbandmen, do exceed after their manner, 
especially at bridals, purifications of women, and such odd 
meetings, where it is incredible to tell what meat is con- 
sumed and spent, each one bringing such a dish, or so many 
with him, as his wife and he do consult upon, but always 
with this consideration, that the lesser friend shall have the 
better provision. This also is commonly seen at these ban- 
quets, that the good man of the house is not charged with 
anything saving bread, drink, sauce, house-room, and fire. 
But the artificers in cities and good towns do deal far 
otherwise ; for, albeit that some of them do suffer their 
jaws to go oft before their claws, and divers of them, by 
making good cheer, do hinder themselves and other men, 
yet the wiser sort can handle the matter well enough in 
these junketings, and therefore their frugality deserveth 
commendation. To conclude, both the artificer and the 
husbandman are sufficiently liberal, and very friendly at 
their tables ; and, when they meet, they are so merry with- 
out malice, and plain without inward Italian or French 
craft and subtlety, that it would do a man good to be in 



OF FOOD AND DIET 293 

company among them. Herein only are the inferior sort 
somewhat to be blamed, that, being thus assembled, their 
talk is now and then such as savoureth of scurrility and 
ribaldry, a thing naturally incident to carters and clowns, 
who think themselves not to be merry and welcome if their 
foolish veins in this behalf be never so little restrained. 
This is moreover to be added in these meetings, that if they 
happen to stumble upon a piece of venison and a cup of 
wine or very strong beer or ale (which latter they com- 
monly provide against their appointed days), they think 
their cheer so great, and themselves to have fared so well, 
as the Lord Mayor of London, with whom, when their bel- 
lies be full, they will not often stick to make comparison, 
because that of a subject there is no public officer of any 
city in Europe that may compare in port and countenance 
with him during the time of his office. 

I might here talk somewhat of the great silence that is 
used at the tables of the honourable and wiser sort generally 
over all the realm (albeit that too much deserveth no com- 
mendation, for it belongeth to guests neither to be muti nor 
loquaces 2 ), likewise of the moderate eating and drinking 
that is daily seen, and finally of the regard that each one 
hath to keep himself from the note of surfeiting and 
drunkenness (for which cause salt meat, except beef, bacon, 
and pork, are not any whit esteemed, and yet these three 
may not be much powdered) ; but, as in rehearsal thereof I 
should commend the nobleman, merchant, and frugal artif- 
icer, so I could not clear the meaner sort of husbandmen 
and country inhabitants of very much babbling (except it 
be here and there some odd yeoman), with whom he is 
thought to be the merriest that talketh of most ribaldry or 
the wisest man that speaketh fastest among them, and now 
and then surfeiting and drunkenness which they rather 
fall into for want of heed taking than wilfully following or 
delighting in those errors of set mind and purpose. It 
may be that divers of them living at home, with hard and 
pinching diet, small drink, and some of them having scarce 
enough of that, are soonest overtaken when they come into 
such banquets; howbeit they take it generally as no small 

a Neither " silent " nor " garrulous." 



294 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

disgrace if they happen to be cupshotten, so that it is a 
grief unto them, though now sans remedy, sith the thing is 
done and past. If the friends also of the wealthier sort 
come to their houses from far, they are commonly so wel- 
come till they depart as upon the first day of their coming; 
whereas in good towns and cities, as London, etc., men 
oftentimes complain of little room, and, in reward of a fat 
capon or plenty of beef and mutton largely bestowed upon 
them in the country, a cup of wine or beer with a napkin 
to wipe their lips and an " You are heartily welcome ! " is 
thought to be a great entertainment; and therefore the old 
country clerks have framed this saying in that behalf, I 
mean upon the entertainment of townsmen and Londoners 
after the days of their abode, in this manner: 

" Primus jucundus, tollerabilis estque secundus, 
Tertius est vanus, sed fetet quatriduanus." 

The bread throughout the land is made of such grain as 
the soil yieldeth; nevertheless the gentility commonly pro- 
vide themselves sufficiently of wheat for their own tables, 
whilst their household and poor neighbours in some shires 
are forced to content themselves with rye, or barley, yea, 
and in time of dearth, many with bread made either of 
beans, peas, or oats, or of altogether and some acorns 
among, of which scourge the poorest do soonest taste, sith 
they are least able to provide themselves of better. I will 
not say that this extremity is oft so well to be seen in time 
of plenty as of dearth, but, if I should, I could easily bring 
my trial. For, albeit that there be much more ground eared 
now almost in every place than hath been of late years, 
yet such a price of corn continueth in each town and market 
without any just cause (except it be that landlords do get 
licences to carry corn out of the land only to keep up the 
prices for their own private gains and ruin of the com- 
monwealth), that the artificer and poor labouring man is 
not able to reach unto it, but is driven to content him- 
self with horse corn — I mean beans, peas, oats, tares, and 
lentils : and therefore it is a true proverb, and never so well 
verified as now, that " Hunger setteth his first foot into 
the horse-manger." 3 If the world last awhile after this 



OF FOOD AND DIET 295 

rate, wheat and rye will be no grain for poor men to feed 
on; and some caterpillars there are that can say so much 
already. 

Of bread made of wheat we have sundry sorts daily 
brought to the table, whereof the first and most excellent 
is the manchet, which we commonly call white bread, in 
Latin primarius panis, whereof Budeus also speaketh, in his 
first book De asse; and our good workmen deliver commonly 
such proportion that of the flour of one bushel with another 
they make forty cast of manchet, of which every loaf 
weigheth eight ounces into the oven, and six ounces out, 
as I have been informed. The second is the cheat or 
wheaten bread, so named because the colour thereof re- 
sembleth the grey or yellowish wheat, being clean and well 
dressed, and out of this is the coarsest of the bran (usually 
called gurgeons or pollard) taken. The ravelled is a kind 
of cheat bread also, but it retaineth more of the gross, and 
less of the pure substance of the wheat; and this, being 
more slightly wrought up, is used in the halls of the nobility 
and gentry only, whereas the other either is or should be 
baked in cities and good towns of an appointed size (ac- 
cording to such price as the corn doth bear), and by a 
statute provided by King John in that behalf. 4 The ravelled 
cheat therefore is generally so made that out of one bushel 
of meal, after two and twenty pounds of bran be sifted and 
taken from it (whereunto they add the gurgeons that rise 
from the manchet), they make thirty cast, every loaf 
weighing eighteen ounces into the oven, and sixteen ounces 
out; and, beside this, they so handle the matter that to every 
bushel of meal they add only two and twenty, or three and 
twenty, pound of water, washing also (in some houses) 
their corn before it go to the mill, whereby their manchet 
bread is more excellent in colour, and pleasing to the eye, 
than otherwise it would be. The next sort is named brown 
bread, of the colour of which we have two sorts one baked 
up as it cometh from the mill, so that neither the bran nor 
the flour are any whit diminished; this, Celsus called auto- 

3 A famine at hand is first seen in the horse-manger, when the poor do 
fall to horse corn. — H. 

4 The size of bread is very ill kept or not at all looked unto in the country 
towns or markets.-H. (g) HC xxxy 



296 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

pirus panis, lib. 2, and putteth it in the second place of 
nourishment. The other hath little or no flour left therein 
at all, howbeit he calleth it Panem Cibarium, and it is not 
only the worst and weakest of all the other sorts, but also 
appointed in old time for servants, slaves, and the inferior 
kind of people to feed upon. Hereunto likewise, because 
it is dry and brickie in the working (for it will hardly be 
made up handsomely into loaves), some add a portion of rye 
meal in our time, whereby the rough dryness or dry rough- 
ness thereof is somewhat qualified, and then it is named 
miscelin, that is, bread made of mingled corn, albeit that 
divers do sow or mingle wheat and rye of set purpose at 
the mill, or before it come there, and sell the same at the 
markets under the aforesaid name. 

In champaign countries much rye and barley bread is 
eaten, but especially where wheat is scant and geson. As 
for the difference that it is between the summer and winter 
wheat, most husbandmen know it not, sith they are neither 
acquainted with summer wheat nor winter barley; yet here 
and there I find of both sorts, specially in the north and 
about Kendal, where they call it March wheat, and also of 
summer rye, but in so small quantities as that I dare not 
pronounce them to be greatly common among us. 

Our drink, whose force and continuance is partly touched 
already, is made of barley, water, and hops, sodden and 
mingled together, by the industry of our brewers in a cer- 
tain exact proportion. But, before our barley do come into 
their hands, it sustaineth great alteration, and is converted 
into malt, the making whereof I will here set down in such 
order as my skill therein may extend unto (for I am scarce 
a good maltster), chiefly for that foreign writers have at- 
tempted to describe the same, and the making of our beer, 
wherein they have shot so far wide, as the quantity of 
ground was between themselves and their mark. In the 
meantime bear with me, gentle reader (I beseech thee), 
that lead thee from the description of the plentiful diet of 
our country unto the fond report of a servile trade, or 
rather from a table delicately furnished into a musty malt- 
house; but such is now thy hap, wherefore I pray thee be 
contented. 



OF FOOD AND DIET 297 

Our malt is made all the year long in some great towns ; 
but in gentlemen's and yeomen's houses, who commonly 
make sufficient for their own expenses only, the winter half 
is thought most meet for that commodity: howbeit the malt 
that is made when the willow doth bud is commonly worst 
of all. Nevertheless each one endeavoureth to make it of 
the best barley, which is steeped in a cistern, in greater or 
less quantity, by the space of three days and three nights, 
until it be thoroughly soaked. This being done, the water is 
drained from it by little and little, till it be quite gone. 
Afterward they take it out, and, laying it upon the clean 
floor on a round heap, it resteth so until it be ready to 
shoot at the root end, which maltsters call combing. When 
it beginneth therefore to shoot in this manner, they say it 
is come, and then forthwith they spread it abroad, first thick, 
and afterwards thinner and thinner upon the said floor (as 
it combeth), and there it lieth (with turning every day four 
or five times) by the space of one and twenty days at the 
least, the workmen not suffering it in any wise to take any 
heat, whereby the bud end should spire, that bringeth forth 
the blade, and by which oversight or hurt of the stuff itself 
the malt would be spoiled and turn small commodity to the 
brewer. When it hath gone, or been turned, so long upon 
the floor, they carry it to a kiln covered with hair cloth, 
where they give it gentle heats (after they have spread it 
there very thin abroad) till it be dry, and in the meanwhile 
they turn it often, that it may be uniformly dried. For the 
more it be dried (yet must it be done with soft fire) the 
sweeter and better the malt is, and the longer it will con- 
tinue, whereas, if it be not dried down (as they call it), 
but slackly handled, it will breed a kind of worm called a 
weevil, which groweth in the flour of the corn, and in proc- 
ess of time will so eat out itself that nothing shall remain 
of the grain but even the very rind or husk. 

The best malt is tried by the hardness and colour; for, if 
it look fresh with a yellow hue, and thereto will write like 
a piece of chalk, after you have bitten a kernel in sunder in 
the midst, then you may assure yourself that it is dried 
down. In some places it is dried at leisure with wood alone 
or straw alone, in others with wood and straw together; 



298 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

but, of all, the straw dried is the most excellent. For the 
wood-dried malt when it is brewed, beside that the drink 
is higher of colour, it doth hurt and annoy the head of him 
that is not used thereto, because of the smoke. Such also 
as use both indifferently do bark, cleave, and dry their wood 
in an oven, thereby to remove all moisture that should pro- 
cure the fume; and this malt is in the second place, and, 
with the same likewise, that which is made with dried furze, 
broom, etc. : whereas, if they also be occupied green, they 
are in manner so prejudicial to the corn as is the moist 
wood. And thus much of our malts, in brewing whereof 
some grind the same somewhat grossly, and, in seething well 
the liquor that shall be put into it, they add to every nine 
quarters of malt one of headcorn (which consisteth of 
sundry grain, as wheat and oats ground). But what have 
I to do with this matter, or rather so great a quantity, where- 
with I am not acquainted? Nevertheless, sith I have taken 
occasion to speak of brewing, I will exemplify in such a 
proportion as I am best skilled in, because it is the usual 
rate for mine own family, and once in a month practised 
by my wife and her maid-servants, who proceed withal after 
this manner, as she hath oft informed me. 

Having therefore ground eight bushels of good malt upon 
our quern, where the toll is saved, she addeth unto it half a 
bushel of wheat meal, and so much of oats small ground, and 
so tempereth or mixeth them with the malt that you cannot 
easily discern the one from the other; otherwise these latter 
would clunter, fall into lumps, and thereby become unprofit- 
able. The first liquor (which is full eighty gallons, accord- 
ing to the proportion of our furnace) she maketh boiling 
hot, and then poureth it softly into the malt, where it resteth 
(but without stirring) until her second liquor be almost 
ready to boil. This done, she letteth her mash run till the 
malt be left without liquor, or at the leastwise the greatest 
part of the moisture, which she perceiveth by the stay and 
soft issue thereof; and by this time her second liquor in the 
furnace is ready to seethe, which is put also to the malt, as 
the first woort also again into the furnace, whereunto she 
addeth two pounds of the best English hops, and so letteth 
them seethe together by the space of two hours in summer 



OF FOOD AND DIET 299 

or an hour and a half in winter, whereby it getteth an ex- 
cellent colour, and continuance without impeachment or any- 
superfluous tartness. But, before she putteth her first woort 
into the furnace, or mingleth it with the hops, she taketh 
out a vessel full, of eight or nine gallons, which she shutteth 
up close, and suffereth no air to come into it till it become 
yellow, and this she reserveth by itself unto further use, as 
shall appear hereafter, calling it brackwoort or charwoort, 
and, as she saith, it addeth also to the colour of the drink, 
whereby it yieldeth not unto amber or fine gold in hue unto 
the eye. By this time also her second woort is let run ; and, 
the first being taken out of the furnace, and placed to cool, 
she returneth the middle woort unto the furnace, where it is 
stricken over, or from whence it is taken again, when it 
beginneth to boil, and mashed the second time, whilst the 
third liquor is heat (for there are three liquors), and this 
last put into the furnace, when the second is mashed again. 
When she hath mashed also the last liquor (and set the sec- 
ond to cool by the first), she letteth it run, and then seetheth 
it again with a pound and a half of new hops, or peradven- 
ture two pounds, as she seeth cause by the goodness or base- 
ness of the hops, and, when it hath sodden, in summer two 
hours, and in winter an hour and a half, she striketh it also, 
and reserveth it unto mixture with the rest when time doth 
serve therefore. Finally, when she setteth her drink to- 
gether, she addeth to her brackwoort or charwoort half an 
ounce of arras, and half a quarter of an' ounce of bayberries, 
finely powdered, and then, putting the same into her woort, 
with a handful of wheat flour, she proceedeth in such usual 
order as common brewing requireth. Some, instead of arras 
and bays, add so much long pepper only, but, in her opinion 
and my liking, it is not so good as the first, and hereof we 
make three hogsheads of good beer, such (I mean) as is 
meet for poor men as I am to live withal, whose small 
maintenance (for what great thing is forty pounds a year, 
computatis computandis, able to perform?) may endure no 
deeper cut, the charges whereof groweth in this manner. I 
value my malt at ten shillings, my wood at four shillings 
(which I buy), my hops at twenty pence, the spice at two- 
pence, servants' wages two shillings sixpence, with meat and 



300 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

drink, and the wearing of my vessel at twenty pence, so that 
for my twenty shillings I have ten score gallons of beer or 
more, notwithstanding the loss in seething, which some, 
being loth to forego, do not observe the time, and therefore 
speed thereafter in their success, and worthily. The con- 
tinuance of the drink is always determined after the quan- 
tity of the hops, so that being well hopt it lasteth longer. 
For it feedeth upon the hop, and holdeth out so long as the 
force of the same continueth, which being extinguished, the 
drink must be spent, or else it dieth and becometh of no 
value. 

In this trade also our brewers observe very diligently the 
nature of the water, which they daily occupy, and soil 
through which it passeth, for all waters are not of like good- 
ness, sith the fattest standing water is always the best; for, 
although the waters that run by chalk or cledgy soils be 
good, and next unto the Thames water, which is the most 
excellent, yet the water that standeth in either of these is 
the best for us that dwell in the country, as whereon the 
sun lieth longest, and fattest fish is bred. But, of all other, 
the fenny and marsh is the worst, and the clearest spring 
water next unto it. In this business therefore the skilful 
workman doth redeem the iniquity of that element, by chang- 
ing of his proportions, which trouble in ale (sometime our 
only, but now taken with many for old and sick men's drink) 
is never seen nor heard of. Howbeit, as the beer well sodden 
in the brewing, and stale, is clear and well coloured as mus- 
cadel or malvesey, or rather yellow as the gold noble, as 
our pot-knights call it, so our ale, which is not at all or 
very little sodden, and without hops, is more thick, fulsome, 
and of no such continuance, which are three notable things 
to be considered in that liquor. But what for that? Certes 
I know some ale-knights so much addicted thereunto that 
they will not cease from morrow until even to visit the same, 
cleansing house after house, till they defile themselves, and 
either fall quite under the board, or else, not daring to stir 
from their stools, sit still pinking with their narrow eyes, 
as half sleeping, till the fume of their adversary be digested 
that he may go to it afresh. Such slights also have the ale- 
wives for the utterance of this drink that they will mix it 



OF FOOD AND DIET 301 

with rosen and salt; but if you heat a knife red-hot, and 
quench it in the ale so near the bottom of the pot as you 
can put it, you shall see the rosen come forth hanging on 
the knife. As for the force of salt, it is well known by the 
effect, for the more the drinker tippleth, the more he may, 
and so doth he carry off a dry drunken noil to bed with 
him, except his luck be the better. But to my purpose. 

In some places of England there is a kind of drink made 
of apples which they call cider or pomage, but that of pears 
is called perry, and both are ground and pressed in presses 
made for the nonce. Certes these two are very common in 
Sussex, Kent, Worcester, and other steeds where these 
sorts of fruit do abound, howbeit they are not their only 
drink at all times, but referred unto the delicate sorts of 
drink, as metheglin is in Wales, whereof the Welshmen 
make no less account (and not without cause, if it be well 
handled) than the Greeks did of their ambrosia or nectar, 
which for the pleasantness thereof was supposed to be such 
as the gods themselves did delight in. There is a kind 
of swish-swash made also in Essex, and divers other places, 
with honeycombs and water, which the homely country 
wives, putting some pepper and a little other spice among, 
call mead, very good in mine opinion for such as love to 
be loose bodied at large, or a little eased of the cough. 
Otherwise it differeth so much from the true metheglin as 
chalk from cheese. Truly it is nothing else but the wash- 
ing of the combs, when the honey is wrung out, and one 
of the best things that I know belonging thereto is that 
they spend but little labour, and less cost, in making of the 
same, and therefore no great loss if it were never occupied. 
Hitherto of the diet of my countrymen, and somewhat more 
at large peradventure than many men will like of, where- 
fore I think good now to finish this tractation, and so will I 
when I have added a few other things incident unto that 
which goeth before, whereby the whole process of the same 
shall fully be delivered, and my promise to my friend 5 in 
this behalf performed. 

Heretofore there hath been much more time spent in 
eating and drinking than commonly is in these days; for 

5 Holinshed. This occurs in the last of Harrison's prefatory matter. — W. 



302 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

whereas of old we had breakfast in the forenoon, beverages 
or nunchions 9 after dinner, and thereto rear suppers gen- 
erally when it was time to go to rest (a toy brought into 
England by hardy Canutus, and a custom whereof Athen- 
aeus also speaketh, lib. i, albeit Hippocrates speaks but of 
twice at the most, lib. 2, De rat vict. in feb ac). Now, 
these odd repasts — thanked be God ! — are very well left, 
and each one in manner (except here and there some young, 
hungry stomach that cannot fast till dinner-time) contenteth 
himself with dinner and supper only. The Normans, mis- 
liking the gormandise of Canutus, ordained after their 
arrival that no table should be covered above once in the day, 
which Huntingdon imputeth to their avarice ; but in the 
end, either waxing weary of their own frugality, or suf- 
fering the cockle of old custom to overgrow the good corn 
of their new constitution, they fell to such liberty that in 
often-feeding they surmounted Canutus surnamed the Hardy. 
For, whereas he covered his table but three or four times 
in the day, these spread their cloths five or six times, and 
in such wise as I before rehearsed. They brought in also 
the custom of long and stately sitting at meat, whereby 
their feasts resembled those ancient pontifical banquets 
whereof Macrobius speaketh (lib. 3, cap. 13), and Pliny 
(lib. 10, cap. 10), and which for sumptuousness of fare, 
long sitting, and curiosity shewed in the same, exceeded all 
other men's feasting; which fondness is not yet left with 
us, notwithstanding that it proveth very beneficial for the 
physicians, who most abound where most excess and mis- 
government of our bodies do appear, although it be a great 
expense of time, and worthy of reprehension. For the nobil- 
ity, gentlemen, and merchantmen, especially at great meet- 
ings, do sit commonly till two or three of the clock at 
afternoon, so that with many it is a hard matter to rise 
from the table to go to evening prayer, and return from 
thence to come time enough to supper. 7 . . . 

With us the nobility, gentry, and students do ordinarily 
go to dinner at eleven before noon, and to supper at five, or 
between five and six at afternoon. The merchants dine 

9 This word is not obsolete. South-coast countrymen still eat nuntions 
and not luncheons. — W. 

7 Here follows a disquisition upon the table practices of the ancients. — W. 



OF FOOD AND DIET 303 

and sup seldom before twelve at noon, and six at night, 
especially in London. The husbandmen dine also at high 
noon as they call it, and sup at seven or eight; but out 
of the term in our universities the scholars dine at ten. As 
for the poorest sort they generally dine and sup when they 
may, so that to talk of their order of repast it were but a 
needless matter. I might here take occasion also to set 
down the variety used by antiquity in their beginnings of 
their diets, wherein almost every nation had a several fash- 
ion, some beginning of custom (as we do in summer time) 
with salads at supper, and some ending with lettuce, some 
making their entry with eggs, and shutting up their 
tables with mulberries, as we do with fruit and conceits of 
all sorts. Divers (as the old Romans) began with a few 
crops of rue, as the Venetians did with the fish called 
gobius; the Belgaes with butter, or (as we do yet also) with 
butter and eggs upon fish days. But whereas we commonly 
begin with the most gross food, and end with the most deli- 
cate, the Scot, thinking much to leave the best for his menial 
servants, maketh his entrance at the best, so that he is sure 
thereby to leave the worst. We use also our wines by de- 
grees, so that the hostess cometh last to the table: but to 
stand upon such toys would spend much time, and turn to 
small profit. Wherefore I will deal with other things more 
necessary for this turn. 



CHAPTER VII 

OF OUR APPAREL AND ATTIRE 
[1577, Book III., Chapter 2; 1587, Book II., Chapter 7.] 

A N Englishman, endeavouring sometime to write of 
ZA our attire, made sundry platforms for his purpose, 
-*- -A- supposing by some of them to find out one steadfast 
ground whereon to build the sum of his discourse. But 
in the end (like an orator long without exercise), when he 
saw what a difficult piece of work he had taken in hand, he 
gave over his travel, and only drew the picture of a naked 
man, 1 unto whom he gave a pair of shears in the one hand 
and a piece of cloth in the other, to the end he should 
shape his apparel after such fashion as himself liked, sith 
he could find no kind of garment that could please him any 
while together; and this he called an Englishman. Certes 
this writer (otherwise being a lewd popish hypocrite and 
ungracious priest) shewed himself herein not to be altogether 
void of judgment, sith the phantastical folly of our nation 
(even from the courtier to the carter) is such that no form 
of apparel liketh us longer than the first garment is in the 
wearing, if it continue so long, and be not laid aside to 
receive some other trinket newly devised by the fickle- 
headed tailors, who covet to have several tricks in cutting, 
thereby to draw fond customers to more expense of money. 
For my part, I can tell better how to inveigh against this 
enormity than describe any certainty of our attire; sithence 

1 [Cut.] 
" I am an English man and naked I stand here, 

Musying in my mynde what rayment I shall were; 

For now I will were thys, and now I will were that; 

Now I will were I cannot tell what. 

All new fashyons be plesaunt to me; 

I wyl haue them, whether I thryve or thee." 
From Andrew Boorde's Introduction (1541), and Dyetary (1542), edited by 
F. J. F. for Early English Text Society, 1870, p. 116. (A most quaint and 
interesting volume, though I say so.) — Furnivall. 

304 



OF APPAREL AND ATTIRE 305 

such is our mutability that to-day there is none to the 
Spanish guise, to-morrow the French toys are most fine 
and delectable, ere long no such apparel as that which is 
after the high Almaine fashion, by-and-by the Turkish man- 
ner is generally best liked of, otherwise the Morisco gowns, 
the Barbarian fleeces, the mandilion worn to Colley- Weston 
ward, and the short French breeches make such a comely 
vesture that, except it were a dog in a doublet, you shall 
not see any so disguised as are my countrymen of England. 
And as these fashions are diverse, so likewise it is a world 
to see the costliness and the curiosity, the excess and the 
vanity, the pomp and the bravery, the change and the variety, 
and finally the fickleness and the folly, that is in all degrees, 
insomuch that nothing is more constant in England than 
inconstancy of attire. Oh, how much cost is bestowed now- 
adays upon our bodies, and how little upon our souls ! How 
many suits of apparel hath the one, and how little furniture 
hath the other ! How long time is asked in decking up of 
the first, and how little space left wherein to feed the latter ! 
How curious, how nice also, are a number of men and 
women, and how hardly can the tailor please them in mak- 
ing it fit for their bodies ! How many times must it be 
sent back again to him that made it ! What chafing, what 
fretting, what reproachful language, doth the poor work- 
man bear away ! And many times when he doth nothing 
to it at all, yet when it is brought home again it is very 
fit and handsome; then must we put it on, then must the 
long seams of our hose be set by a plumb-line, then we puff, 
then we blow, and finally sweat till we drop, that our 
clothes may stand well upon us. I will say nothing of our 
heads, which sometimes are polled, sometimes curled, or 
suffered to grow at length like woman's locks, many times 
cut off, above or under the ears, round as by a wooden 
dish. Neither will I meddle with our variety of beards, of 
which some are shaven from the chin like those of Turks, 
not a few cut short like to the beard of Marquess Otto, 
some made round like a rubbing brush, others with a pique 
de vant (O ! fine fashion !), or now and then suffered to grow 
long, the barbers being grown to be so cunning in this 
behalf as the tailors. And therefore if a man have a lean 



306 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

and straight face, a Marquess Otton's cut will make it broad 
and large; if it be platter-like, a long, slender beard will 
make it seem the narrower; if he be weasel-becked, then 
much hair left on the cheeks will make the owner look big 
like a bowdled hen, and as grim as a goose, if Cornelis of 
Chelmersford say true. Many old men do wear no beards 
at all. Some lusty courtiers also and gentlemen of courage 
do wear either rings of gold, stones, or pearl, in their ears, 
whereby they imagine the workmanship of God not to be 
a little amended. But herein they rather disgrace than 
adorn their persons, as by their niceness in apparel, for which 
I say most nations do not unjustly deride us, as also for 
that we do seem to imitate all nations round about us, wherein 
we be like to the polypus or chameleon; and thereunto 
bestow most cost upon our arses, and much more than upon 
all the rest of our bodies, as women do likewise upon their 
heads and shoulders. In women also, it is most to be la- 
mented, that they do now far exceed the lightness of our men 
(who nevertheless are transformed from the cap even to 
the very shoe), and such staring attire as in time past 
was supposed meet for none but light housewives only is 
now become a habit for chaste and sober matrons. What 
should I say of their doublets with pendant codpieces on 
the breast full of jags and cuts, and sleeves of sundry 
colours ? Their galligascons to bear out their bums and 
make their attire to fit plum round (as they term it) about 
them. Their fardingals, and diversely coloured nether 
stocks of silk, jerdsey, and such like, whereby their bodies 
are rather deformed than commended ? I have met with 
some of these trulls in London so disguised that it hath 
passed my skill to discern whether they were men or women. 
Thus it is now come to pass, that women are become men, 
and men transformed into monsters; and those good gifts 
which Almighty God hath given unto us to relieve our 
necessities withal (as a nation turning altogether the grace 
of God into wantonness, for 

" Luxuriant animi rebus plerunque fecundis,") 

not otherwise bestowed than in all excess, as if we wist not 
otherwise how to consume and waste them. I pray God 



OF APPAREL AND ATTIRE 307 

that in this behalf our sin be not like unto that of Sodom 
and Gomorrah, whose errors were pride, excess of diet; 
and abuse of God's benefits abundantly bestowed upon them, 
beside want of charity towards the poor, and certain other 
points which the prophet shutteth up in silence. Certes the 
commonwealth cannot be said to flourish where these abuses 
reign, but is rather oppressed by unreasonable exactions made 
upon rich farmers, and of poor tenants, wherewith to main- 
tain the same. Neither was it ever merrier with England than 
when an Englishman was known abroad by his own cloth, 
and contented himself at home with his fine carsey hosen, 
and a mean slop ; his coat, gown, and cloak of brown, blue, 
or puke, with some pretty furniture of velvet or fur, and 
a doublet of sad tawny, or black velvet, or other comely 
silk, without such cuts and garish colours as are worn in 
these days, and never brought in but by the consent of the 
French, who think themselves the gayest men when they 
have most diversities of jags and change of colours about 
them. Certes of all estates our merchants do least alter 
their attire, and therefore are most to be commended; for 
albeit that which they wear be very fine and costly, yet in 
form and colour it representeth a great piece of the ancient 
gravity appertaining to citizens and burgesses, albeit the 
younger sort of their wives, both in attire and costly house- 
keeping, cannot tell when and how to make an end, as being 
women indeed in whom all kind of curiosity is to be found 
and seen, and in far greater measure than in women of 
higher calling. I might here name a sort of hues devised 
for the nonce, wherewith to please fantastical heads, as 
goose-turd green, peas-porridge tawny, popingay blue, lusty 
gallant, the devil-in-the-head (I should say the hedge), and 
such like; but I pass them over, thinking it sufficient to 
have said thus much of apparel generally, when nothing 
can particularly be spoken of any constancy thereof. 



CHAPTER VIII 

OF THE MANNER OF BUILDING AND FURNITURE 
OF OUR HOUSES 

[1577, Book II., Chapter 10; 1587, Book II., Chapter 12.] 

THE greatest part of our building in the cities and good 
towns of England consisteth only of timber, for as 
yet few of the houses of the communalty (except 
here and there in the West-country towns) are made of 
stone, although they may (in my opinion) in divers other 
places be builded so good cheap of the one as of the other. 
In old time the houses of the Britons were slightly set up 
with a few posts and many raddles, with stable and all 
offices under one roof, the like whereof almost is to be seen 
in the fenny countries and northern parts unto this day, 
where for lack of wood they are enforced to continue this 
ancient manner of building. It is not in vain, therefore, 
in speaking of building, to make a distinction between the 
plain and woody soils; for as in these, our houses are com- 
monly strong and well-timbered (so that in many places 
there are not above four, six, or nine inches between stud 
and stud), so in the open champaign countries they are 
forced, for want of stuff, to use no studs at all, but only 
frankposts, raisins, beams, prickposts, groundsels, summers 
(or dormants), transoms, and such principals, with here 
and there a girding, whereunto they fasten their splints or 
raddles, and then cast it all over with thick clay to keep out 
the wind, which otherwise would annoy them. Certes this 
rude kind of building made the Spaniards in Queen Mary's 
days to wonder, but chiefly when they saw what large diet 
was used in many of these so homely cottages; insomuch 
that one of no small reputation amongst them said after 
this manner — "These English (quoth he) have their houses 

308 



OF BUILDING AND FURNITURE 309 

made of sticks and dirt, but they fare commonly so well 
as the king." Whereby it appeareth that he liked better 
of our good fare in such coarse cabins than of their own 
thin diet in their prince-like habitations and palaces. In 
like sort as every country house is thus apparelled on the 
outside, so is it inwardly divided into sundry rooms above 
and beneath; and, where plenty of wood is, they cover them 
with tiles, otherwise with straw, sedge, or reed, except 
some quarry of slate be near hand, from whence they have 
for their money much as may suffice them. The clay where- 
with our houses are impannelled is either white, red, or 
blue; and of these the first doth participate very much of 
the nature of our chalk; the second is called loam; but the 
third eftsoons changeth colour as soon as it is wrought, 
notwithstanding that it looks blue when it is thrown out 
of the pit. Of chalk also we have our excellent asbestos or 
white lime, made in most places, wherewith being quenched, 
we strike over our clay works and stone walls, in cities, 
good towns, rich farmers' and gentlemen's houses : other- 
wise, instead of chalk (where it wanteth, for it is so scant 
that in some places it is sold by the pound), they are com- 
pelled to burn a certain kind of red stone, as in Wales, 
and elsewhere other stones and shells of oysters and like 
fish found upon the sea coast, which, being converted into 
lime, doth naturally (as the other) abhor and eschew water, 
whereby it is dissolved, and nevertheless desire oil, where- 
with it is easily mixed, as I have seen by experience. Within 
their doors also, such as are of ability do oft make their 
floors and parget of fine alabaster burned, which they call 
plaster of Paris, whereof in some places we have great 
plenty, and that very profitable against the rage of fire. In 
plastering likewise of our fairest houses over our heads, 
we use to lay first a line or two of white mortar, tempered 
with hair, upon laths, which are nailed one by another (or 
sometimes upon reed of wickers more dangerous for fire, 
and make fast here and there saplaths for falling down), 
and finally cover all with the aforesaid plaster, which, beside 
the delectable whiteness of the stuff itself, is laid on so 
even and smoothly as nothing in my judgment can be done 
with more exactness. The walls of our houses on the inner 



310 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

sides in like sort be either hanged with tapestry, arras work, 
or painted cloths, wherein either divers histories, or herbs, 
beasts, knots, and such like are stained, or else they are 
ceiled with oak of our own, or wainscot brought hither out 
of the east countries, whereby the rooms are not a little 
commended, made warm, and much more close than other- 
wise they would be. As for stoves, we have not hitherto 
used them greatly, yet do they now begin to be made in 
divers houses of the gentry and wealthy citizens, who build 
them not to work and feed in, as in Germany and elsewhere, 
but now and then to sweat in, as occasion and need shall 
require it. 

This also hath been common in England, contrary to the 
customs of all other nations, and yet to be seen (for example, 
in most streets of London), that many of our greatest houses 
have outwardly been very simple and plain to sight, which 
inwardly have been able to receive a duke with his whole 
train, and lodge them at their ease. Hereby, moreover, it 
is come to pass that the fronts of our streets have not been 
so uniform and orderly builded as those of foreign cities, 
where (to say truth) the outer side of their mansions and 
dwellings have oft more cost bestowed upon them than all 
the rest of the house, which are often very simple and uneasy 
within, as experience doth confirm. Of old time, our coun- 
try houses, instead of glass, did use much lattice, and that 
made either of wicker or fine rifts of oak in checkerwise. 
I read also that some of the better sort, in and before the 
times of the Saxons (who notwithstanding used some glass 
also since the time of Benedict Biscop, the monk that 
brought the feat of glazing first into this land), did make 
panels of horn instead of glass, and fix them in wooden 
calmes. But as horn in windows is now quite laid down in 
every place, so our lattices are also grown into less use, 
because glass is come to be so plentiful, and within a very 
little so good cheap, if not better than the other. I find 
obscure mention of the specular stone also to have been 
found and applied to this use in England, but in such doubt- 
ful sort as I dare not affirm it for certain. Nevertheless 
certain it is that antiquity used it before glass was known, 
under the name of selenites. And how glass was first 



OF BUILDING AND FURNITURE 311 

found I care not greatly to remember, even at this present, 
although it be directly beside my purposed matter. In 
Syria Phenices, which bordereth upon Jewry, and near to 
the foot of Mount Carmel, there is a moor or marsh where- 
out riseth a brook called sometime Belus, and falleth into 
the sea near to Ptolemais. This river was fondly ascribed 
unto Baal, and also honoured under that name by the infidels 
long time before there was any king in Israel. It came to 
pass also, as a certain merchant sailed that way, loaden with 
nitrum, the passengers went to land for to repose them- 
selves, and to take in some store of fresh water into their 
vessel. Being also on the shore, they kindled a fire and made 
provision for their dinner, but (because they wanted trevets 
or stones whereon to set their kettles on) ran by chance 
into the ship, and brought great pieces of nitrum with them, 
which served their turn for that present. To be short, the 
said substance being hot, and beginning to melt, it mixed by 
chance with the gravel that lay under it, and so brought 
forth that shining substance which now is called glass, and 
about the time of Semiramis. When the company saw this, 
they made no small accompt of their success, and forthwith 
began to practise the like in other mixtures, whereby great 
variety of the said stuff did also ensue. Certes for the 
time this history may well be true, for I read of glass in 
Job; but, for the rest, I refer me to the common opinion 
conceived by writers. Now, to turn again to our windows. 
Heretofore also the houses of our princes and noblemen 
were often glazed with beryl (an example whereof is yet to 
be seen in Sudeley Castle) and in divers other places with 
fine crystal, but this especially in the time of the Romans, 
whereof also some fragments have been taken up in old 
ruins. But now these are not in use, so that only the 
clearest glass is most esteemed: for we have divers sorts, 
some brought out of Burgundy, some out of Normandy, 
much out of Flanders, beside that which is made in Eng- 
land, which would be so good as the best if we were diligent 
and careful to bestow more cost upon it, and yet as it is 
each one that may will have it for his building. Moreover 
the mansion houses of our country towns and villages (which 
in champaign ground stand altogether by streets, and join- 

(t) hc xxxv 



312 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

ing one to another, but in woodland soils dispersed here 
and there, each one upon the several grounds of their 
owners) are builded in such sort generally as that they 
have neither dairy, stable, nor brew-house annexed unto 
them under the same roof (as in many places beyond the 
sea and some of the north parts of our country), but all 
separate from the first, and one of them from another. And 
yet, for all this, they are not so far distant in sunder but 
that the goodman lying in his bed may lightly hear what is 
done in each of them with ease, and call quickly unto his 
many if any danger should attack him. 

The ancient manors and houses of our gentlemen are 
yet and for the most part of strong timber, in framing 
whereof our carpenters have been and are worthily pre- 
ferred before those of like science among all other nations. 
Howbeit such as be lately builded are commonly either of 
brick or hard stone, or both, their rooms large and comely, 
and houses of office further distant from their lodgings. 
Those of the nobility are likewise wrought with brick and 
hard stone, as provision may best be made, but so magnifi- 
cent and stately as the basest house of a baron doth often 
match in our days with some honours of a princes in old 
time ; So that, if ever curious building did flourish in Eng- 
land, it is in these our years wherein our workmen excel 
and are in manner comparable in skill with old Vitruvius, 
Leo Baptista, and Serlo. Nevertheless their estimation, 
more than their greedy and servile covetousness, joined with 
a lingering humour, causeth them often to be rejected, and 
strangers preferred to greater bargains, who are more rea- 
sonable in their takings, and less wasters of time by a great 
deal than our own. 

The furniture of our houses also exceedeth, and is grown 
in manner even to passing delicacy: and herein I do not 
speak of the nobility and gentry only, but likewise of the 
lowest sort in most places of our south country that have 
anything at all to take to. Certes in noblemen's houses it 
is not rare to see abundance of arras, rich hangings of 
tapestry, silver vessels, and so much other plate as may 
furnish sundry cupboards to the sum oftentimes of a thou- 
sand or two thousand pounds at the least, whereby the 



OF BUILDING AND FURNITURE 313 

value of this and the rest of their stuff doth grow to be 
almost inestimable. Likewise in the houses of knights, 
gentlemen, merchantmen, and some other wealthy citizens, it 
is not geson to behold generally their great provision of 
tapestry, Turkey work, pewter, brass, fine linen, and thereto 
costly cupboards of plate, worth five or six hundred or a 
thousand pounds to be deemed by estimation. But, as herein 
all these sorts do far exceed their elders and predecessors, 
and in neatness and curiosity the merchant all other, so in 
times past the costly furniture stayed there, whereas now 
it is descended yet lower even unto the inferior artificers 
and many farmers, who, by virtue of their old and not 
of their new leases, have, for the most part, learned also 
to garnish their cupboards with plate, their joined beds 
with tapestry and silk hangings, and their tables with car- 
pets and fine napery, whereby the wealth of our country 
(God be praised therefore, and give us grace to employ it 
well) doth infinitely appear. Neither do I speak this in 
reproach of any man, God is my judge, but to shew that 
I do rejoice rather to see how God hath blessed us with 
his good gifts; and whilst, I behold how (in a time wherein 
all things are grown to most excessive prices, and what 
commodity so ever is to be had is daily plucked from the 
communalty by such as look into every trade) we do yet 
find the means to obtain and achieve such furniture as here- 
tofore hath been unpossible. 

There are old men yet dwelling in the village where I 
remain which have noted three things to be marvellously 
altered in England within their sound remembrance, and 
other three things too too much increased. 

One is the multitude of chimneys lately erected, whereas 
in their young days there were not above two or three, if 
so many, in most uplandish towns of the realm (the re- 
ligious houses and manor places of their lords always ex- 
cepted, and peradventure some great personages), but each 
one made his fire against a reredos in the hall, where he 
dined and dressed his meat. 

The second is the great (although not general) amend- 
ment of lodging; for, said they, our fathers, yea and we 
ourselves also, have lain full oft upon straw pallets, on 



314 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

rough mats covered only with a sheet, under coverlets made 
of dagswain or hopharlots (I use their own terms), and a 
good round log under their heads instead of a bolster or 
pillow. If it were so that our fathers — or the good man 
of the house had within seven years after his marriage, 
purchased a mattress or flock bed, and thereto a stack of 
chaff to rest his head upon, he thought himself to be as 
well lodged as the lord of the town, that peradventure lay 
seldom in a bed of down or whole feathers, so well were 
they content, and with such base kind of furniture: which 
also is not very much amended as yet in some parts of 
Bedfordshire, and elsewhere, further off from our south- 
ern parts. Pillows (said they) were thought meet only 
for women in childbed. As for servants, if they had any 
sheet above them, it was well, for seldom had they any 
under their bodies to keep them from the pricking straws 
that ran oft through the canvas of the pallet and rased 
their hardened hides. — 

The third thing they tell of is the exchange of vessel, as 
of treen platters into pewter, and wooden spoons into sil- 
ver or tin. For so common were all sorts of treen stuff 
in old time that a man should hardly find four pieces of 
pewter (of which one was peradventure a salt) in a good 
farmer's house, and yet for all this frugality (if it may so 
be justly called) they were scarce able to live and pay their 
rents at their days without selling of a cow, or a horse or 
more, 1 although they paid but four pounds at the uttermost 
by the year. Such also was their poverty that, if some one 
odd farmer or husbandman had been at the ale-house, a 
thing greatly used in those days, amongst six or seven of 
his neighbours, and there in a bravery, to shew what store 
he had, did cast down his purse, and therein a noble or six 
shillings in silver, unto them (for few such men then cared 
for gold, because it was not so ready payment, and they 
were oft enforced to give a penny for the exchange of an 
angel), it was very likely that all the rest could not lay 
down so much against it ; whereas in my time, although 
peradventure four pounds of old rent be improved to forty, 
fifty, or a hundred pounds, yet will the farmer, as another 

1 This was in the time of general idleness. — H. 



OF BUILDING AND FURNITURE 315 

palm or date tree, think his gains very small toward the 
end of his term if he have not six or seven years' rent 
lying by him, therewith to purchase a new lease, beside 
a fair garnish of pewter on his cupboard, with so much 
more in odd vessel going about the house, three or four 
feather beds, so many coverlids and carpets of tapestry, a 
silver salt, a bowl for wine (if not a whole neast), and a 
dozen of spoons to furnish up the suit. This also he takes 
to be his own clear, for what stock of money soever he 
gathereth and layeth up in all his years it is often seen 
that the landlord will take such order with him for the 
same when he reneweth his lease, which is commonly eight 
or six years before the old be expired (sith it is now grown 
almost to a custom that if he come not to his lord so long 
before another shall step in for a reversion, and so defeat 
him outright), that it shall never trouble him more than 
the hair of his beard when the barber hath washed and 
shaved it from his chin. 

And as they commend these, so (beside the decay of 
housekeeping whereby the poor have been relieved) they 
speak also of three things that are grown to be very grievous 
unto them — to wit, the enhancing of rents, lately mentioned; 
the daily oppression of copyholders, whose lords seek to 
bring their poor tenants almost into plain servitude and 
misery, daily devising new means, and seeking up all the 
old, how to cut them shorter and shorter, doubling, trebling, 
and now and then seven times increasing their fines, 
driving them also for every trifle to lose and forfeit 
their tenures (by whom the greatest part of the realm doth 
stand and is maintained), to the end they may fleece them 
yet more, which is a lamentable hearing. The third thing 
they talk of is usury, a trade brought in by the Jews, 
now perfectly practised almost by every Christian, and so 
commonly that he is accompted but for a fool that doth 
lend his money for nothing. In time past it was sors pro 
sorte — that is, the principal only for the principal ; but now, 
beside that which is above the principal properly called Usura, 
we challenge Foemis — that is, commodity of soil and fruits 
of the earth, if not the ground itself. In time past also one of 
the hundred was much; from thence it rose unto two, called 



316 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

in Latin Usura, Ex sextante; three, to wit Ex quadrante ; 
then to four, to wit, Ex triente; then to five, which is Ex quin- 
cunce; then to six, called Ex semisse, etc. As the accompt 
of the Assis ariseth, and coming at the last unto Usura ex 
asse, it amounteth to twelve in the hundred, and therefore 
the Latins call it Centesima, for that in the hundred month 
it doubleth the principal ; but more of this elsewhere. See 
Cicero against Verres, Demosthenes against Aphobus, and 
Athenseus, lib. 13, in fine; and, when thou hast read them 
well, help I pray thee in lawful manner to hang up such 
as take Centum pro cento, for they are no better worthy as 
I do judge in conscience. Forget not also such landlords as 
used to value their leases at a secret estimation given of 
the wealth and credit of the taker, whereby they seem (as 
it were) to eat them up, and deal with bondmen, so that 
if the lessee be thought to be worth a hundred pounds he 
shall pay no less for his new term, or else another to enter 
with hard and doubtful covenants. I am sorry to report it, 
much more grieved to understand of the practice, but most 
sorrowful of all. to understand that men of great port and 
countenance are so far from suffering their farmers to 
have any gain at all that they themselves become graziers, 
butchers, tanners, sheepmasters, woodmen, and denique quid 
non, thereby to enrich themselves, and bring all the wealth 
of the country into their own hands, leaving the communalty 
weak, or as an idol with broken or feeble arms, which may 
in a time of peace have a plausible shew, but when necessity 
shall enforce have a heavy and bitter sequel. 



CHAPTER IX 

OF PROVISION MADE FOR THE POOR 
[1577, Book III., Chapter 5 ; 1587, Book II., Chapter 10.] 

There is no commonwealth at this day in Europe where- 
in there is not great store of poor people, and those 
necessarily to be relieved by the wealthier sort, which 
otherwise would starve and come to utter confusion. 
With us the poor is commonly divided into three sorts, 
so that some are poor by impotence, as the fatherless 
child, the aged, blind, and lame, and the diseased person 
that is judged to be incurable ; the second are poor by cas- 
ualty, as the wounded soldier, the decayed householder, and 
the sick person visited with grievous and painful diseases; 
the third consisteth of thriftless poor, as the rioter that 
hath consumed all, the vagabond that will abide nowhere, 
but runneth up and down from place to place (as it were 
seeking work and finding none), and finally the rogue and 
the strumpet, which are not possible to be divided in sunder, 
but run to and fro over all the realm, chiefly keeping the 
champaign soils in summer to avoid the scorching heat, 
and the woodland grounds in winter to eschew the bluster- 
ing winds. 

For the first two sorts (that is to say, the poor by im- 
potence and poor by casualty, which are the true poor indeed, 
and for whom the Word doth bind us to make some daily pro- 
vision), there is order taken throughout every parish in the 
realm that weekly collection shall be made for their help 
and sustentation — to the end they shall not scatter abroad, 
and, by begging here and there, annoy both town and coun- 
try. Authority also is given unto the justices in every county 
(and great penalties appointed for such as make default) 
to see that the intent of the statute in this behalf be truly 

317 



318 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

executed according to the purpose and meaning of the same, 
so that these two sorts are sufficiently provided for; and 
such as can live within the limits of their allowance (as 
each one will do that is godly and well disposed) may well 
forbear to roam and range about. But if they refuse to be 
supported by this benefit of the law, and will rather endeav- 
our by going to and fro to maintain their idle trades, then 
are they adjudged to be parcel of the third sort, and so, 
instead of courteous refreshing at home, are often cor- 
rected with sharp execution and whip of justice abroad. 
Many there are which, notwithstanding the rigour of the 
laws provided in that behalf, yield rather with this liberty 
(as they call it) to be daily under the fear and terror of 
the whip than, by abiding where they were born or bred, 
to be provided for by the devotion of the parishes. I found 
not long since a note of these latter sort, the effect whereof 
ensueth. Idle beggars are such either through other men's 
occasion or through their own default — by other men's occa- 
sion (as one way for example) when some covetous man 
(such, I mean, as have the cast or right vein daily to make 
beggars enough whereby to pester the land, espying a further 
commodity in their commons, holds, and tenures) doth find 
such means as thereby to wipe many out of their occupyings 
and turn the same unto his private gains. 1 Hereupon it follow- 
eth that, although the wise and better-minded do either forsake 
the realm for altogether, and seek to live in other countries, 
as France, Germany, Barbary, India, Muscovia, and very 
Calcutta, complaining of no room to be left for them at 
home, do so behave themselves that they are worthily to be 
accounted among the second sort, yet the greater part, 
commonly having nothing to stay upon, are wilful, and 
thereupon do either prove idle beggars or else continue 
stark thieves till the gallows do eat them up, which is a lam- 
entable case. Certes in some men's judgment these things 
are but trifles, and not worthy the regarding. Some also 
do grudge at the great increase of people in these days, 
thinking a necessary brood of cattle far better than a super- 
fluous augmentation of mankind. But I can liken such men 
best of all unto the pope and the devil, who practise the 

1 At whose hands shall the blood of these men be required? — H. 



OF PROVISION FOR THE POOR 319 

hindrance of the furniture of the number of the elect to 
their uttermost, to the end the authority of the one upon the 
earth, the deferring of the locking up of the other in everlast- 
ing chains, and the great gains of the first, may continue and 
endure the longer. But if it should come to pass that any 
foreign invasion should be made — which the Lord God for- 
bid for his mercies' sake ! — then should these men find that 
a wall of men is far better than stacks of corn and bags 
of money, and complain of the want when it is too late to 
seek remedy. The like occasion caused the Romans to devise 
their law Agraria: but the rich, not liking of it, and the 
covetous, utterly condemning it as rigorous and unprofitable, 
never ceased to practise disturbance till it was quite abol- 
ished. But to proceed with my purpose. 

Such as are idle beggars through their own default are of 
two sorts, and continue their estates either by casual or 
mere voluntary means : those that are such by casual means 
are in the beginning justly to be referred either to the first 
or second sort of poor aforementioned, but, degenerating into 
the thriftless sort, they do what they can to continue their 
misery, and, with such impediments as they have, to stray 
and wander about, as creatures abhorring all labour and 
every honest exercise. Certes I call these casual means, not 
in the respect of the original of all poverty, but of the con- 
tinuance of the same, from whence they will not be delivered, 
such is their own ungracious lewdness and froward disposi- 
tion. The voluntary means proceed from outward causes, 
as by making of corrosives, and applying the same to the 
more fleshy parts of their bodies, and also laying of ratsbane, 
spearwort, crowfoot, and such like unto their whole mem- 
bers, thereby to raise pitiful and odious sores, and move 
the hearts of the goers-by such places where they lie, to 
yearn at their misery, and thereupon bestow large alms upon 
them. How artificially they beg, what forcible speech, and 
how they select and choose out words of vehemence, whereby 
they do in manner conjure or adjure the goer-by to pity 
their cases, I pass over to remember, as judging the name 
of God and Christ to be more conversant in the mouths of 
none and yet the presence of the Heavenly Majesty further 
off from no men than from this ungracious company. Which 



320 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

maketh me to think that punishment is far meeter for them 
than liberality or alms, and sith Christ willeth us chiefly to 
have a regard to Himself and his poor members. 

Unto this nest is another sort to be referred, more sturdy 
than the rest, which, having sound and perfect limbs, do yet 
notwithstanding sometime counterfeit the possession of all 
sorts of diseases. Divers times in their apparel also they 
will be like serving men or labourers: oftentimes they can 
play the mariners, and seek for ships which they never lost. 
But in fine they are all thieves and caterpillars in the com- 
monwealth, and by the Word of God not permitted to eat, 
sith they do but lick the sweat from the true labourers' 
brows, and bereave the godly poor of that which is due unto 
them, to maintain their excess, consuming the charity of 
well-disposed people bestowed upon them, after a most 
wicked and detestable manner. 

It is not yet full threescore years since this trade began: 
but how it hath prospered since that time it is easy to judge, 
for they are now supposed, of one sex and another, to amount 
unto above 10,000 persons, as I have heard reported. More- 
over, in counterfeiting the Egyptian rogues, they have de- 
vised a language among themselves, which they name " Cant- 
ing," but others, " pedler's French," a speech compact thirty 
years since, of English and a great number of odd words 
of their own devising, without all order or reason, and yet 
such is it as none but themselves are able to understand. 
The first deviser thereof was hanged by the neck — a just 
reward, no doubt, for his deserts, and a common end to all 
of that profession. 

A gentleman also of late hath taken great pains to search 
out the secret practices of this ungracious rabble. And 
among other things he setteth down and describeth three 
and twenty sorts of them, whose names it shall not be amiss 
to remember whereby each one may take occasion to read 
and know as also by his industry what wicked people they 
are, and what villainy remaineth in them. 

The several disorders and degrees amongst our idle 
vagabonds. 

1. Rufflers. 3. Hookers or anglers. 

2. Uprightmen. 4. Rogues. 



OF PROVISION FOR THE POOR 321 

5. Wild rogues. 10. Freshwater mariners or 

6. Priggers or pransers. whipiacks 

7. Palliards. 11. Drummerers. 

8. Fraters. 12. Drunken tinkers. 

9. Abrams. 13. Swadders or pedlers. 

14. Jarkemen or patricoes. 

Of the women kind. 

1. Demanders for glimmar or 5. Walking mortes. 

2. Bawdy-baskets. [fire. 6. Doxies. 

3. Mortes. 7- Dells. 

4. Autem mortem. 8. Kinching mortes. 

9. Kinching cooes. 

The punishment that is ordained for this kind of people 
is very sharp, and yet it cannot restrain them from their 
gadding: wherefore the end must needs be martial law, 2 to 
be exercised upon them, as upon thieves, robbers, despisers 
of all laws, and enemies to the commonwealth and welfare 
of the land. What notable robberies, pilferies, murders, 
rapes, and stealings of young children, burning, breaking, 
and disfiguring their limbs to make them pitiful in the sight 
of the people, I need not to rehearse ; but for their idle rogue- 
ing about the country, the law ordaineth this manner of 
correction. The rogue being apprehended, committed to 
prison, and tried in the next assizes (whether they be of 
gaol delivery or sessions of the peace), if he happen to be 
convicted for a vagabond, either by inquest of office or the 
testimony of two honest and credible witnesses upon their 
oaths, he is then immediately adjudged to be grievously 
whipped and burned through the gristle of the right ear with 
a hot iron of the compass of an inch about, as a manifesta- 
tion of his wicked life, and due punishment received for 
the same. And this judgment is to be executed upon him 
except some honest person worth five pounds in the queen's 
books in goods, or twenty shillings in land, or some rich 
householder to be allowed by the justices, will be bound in 
recognisance to retain him in his service for one whole year. 
If he be taken the second time, and proved to have forsaken 
his said service, he shall then be whipped again, bored like- 
wise through the other ear, and set to service : from whence 
if he depart before a year be expired, and happen afterwards 

3 Law of the Marshal. — Furnivall. 



322 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

to be attached again, he is condemned to suffer pains of 
death as a felon (except before excepted) without benefit 
of clergy or sanctuary, as by the statute doth appear. Among 
rogues and idle persons, finally, we find to be comprised all 
proctors that go up and down with counterfeit licences, 
cozeners, and such as gad about the country, using unlawful 
games, practisers of physiogonomy and palmestry, tellers of 
iortunes, fencers, players, minstrels, jugglers, pedlers, tink- 
ers, pretended scholars, shipmen, prisoners gathering for 
fees, and others so oft as they be taken without sufficient 
licence. From among which company our bearwards are 
not excepted, and just cause : for I have read that they have, 
either voluntarily or for want of power to master their 
savage beasts, been occasion of the death and devouration 
of many children in sundry countries by which they have 
passed, whose parents never knew what was become of 
them. And for that cause there is and have been many 
sharp laws made for bearwards in Germany, whereof you 
may read in other. But to our rogues. Each one also that 
harboureth or aideth them with meat or money is taxed and 
compelled to fine with the queen's majesty for every time 
that he doth succour them as it shall please the justices of 
peace to assign, so that the taxation exceed not twenty, as 
I have been informed. And thus much of the poor and 
such provision as is appointed for them within the realm 
of England. 



CHAPTER X 

OF THE AIR AND SOIL AND COMMODITIES OF THIS ISLAND 
1*577, Book L, Chapter 13; 1587, Book I., Chapter 18.] 

THE air (for the most part) throughout the island is 
such as by reason in manner of continual clouds is re- 
puted to be gross, and nothing so pleasant as that of 
the main. Howbeit, as they which affirm these things have 
only respect to the impediment or hindrance of the sun- 
beams by the interposition of the clouds and of ingrossed 
air, so experience teacheth us that it is no less pure, whole- 
some, and commodious than is that of other countries, and 
(as Caesar himself hereto addeth) much more temperate in 
summer than that of the Gauls, from whom he adventured 
hither. Neither is there any thing found in the air of our 
region that is not usually seen amongst other nations lying 
beyond the seas. Wherefore we must needs confess that the 
situation of our island (for benefit of the heavens) is 
nothing inferior to that of any country of the main, where- 
soever it lie under the open firmament. And this Plutarch 
knew full well, who affirmeth a part of the Elysian Fields 
to be found in Britain, and the isles that are situated about 
it in the ocean. * 

The soil of Britain is such as by the testimonies and 
reports both of the old and new writers, and experience 
also of such as now inhabit the same, is very fruitful, and 
such indeed as bringeth forth many commodities, whereof 
other countries have need, and yet itself (if fond niceness 
were abolished) needless of those that are daily brought 
from other places. Nevertheless it is more inclined to feed- 
ing and grazing than profitable for tillage and bearing of 
corn, by reason whereof the country is wonderfully replen- 
ished with neat and all kind of cattle; and such store is 

323 



324 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

there also of the same in every place that the fourth part of 
the land is scarcely manured for the provision and main- 
tenance of grain. Certes this fruitfulness was not unknown 
unto the Britons long before Csesar's time, which was the 
cause wherefore our predecessors living in those days in 
manner neglected tillage and lived by feeding and grazing 
only. The graziers themselves also then dwelled in movable 
villages by companies, whose custom was to divide the 
ground amongst them, and each one not to depart from the 
place where his lot lay (a thing much like the Irish Criacht) 
till, by eating up of the country about him, he was enforced 
to remove further and seek for better pasture. And this 
was the British custom, as I learn, at first. It hath been 
commonly reported that the ground of Wales is neither so 
fruitful as that of England, neither the soil of Scotland so 
bountiful as that of Wales, which is true for corn and for 
the most part; otherwise there is so good ground in some 
parts of Wales as is in England, albeit the best of Scotland 
be scarcely comparable to the mean of either of both. How- 
beit, as the bounty of the Scotch doth fail in some respect, 
so doth it surmount in other, God and nature having not 
appointed all countries to yield forth like commodities. 

But where our ground is not so good as we would wish, 
we have — if need be — sufficient help to cherish our ground 
withal, and to make it more fruitful. For, beside the com- 
pest that is carried out of the husbandmen's yards, ditches, 
ponds, dung-houses, or cities and great towns, we have 
with us a kind of white marl which is of so great force 
that if it be cast over a piece of land but once in threescore 
years'' it shall not need of any further compesting. Hereof 
also doth Pliny speak (lib. 17, cap. 6, 7, 8), where he af- 
firmeth that our marl endureth upon the earth by the space 
of fourscore years : insomuch that it is laid upon the same 
but once in a man's life, whereby the owner shall not need 
to travel twice in procuring to commend and better his soil. 
He calleth it marga, and, making divers kinds thereof, he 
finally commendeth ours, and that of France, above all 
other, which lieth sometime a hundred foot deep, and far 
better than the scattering of chalk upon the same, as the 
Hedui and Pictones did in his time, or as some of our days 



OF AIR, SOIL, AND COMMODITIES 325 

also do practise: albeit divers do like better to cast on 
lime, but it will not so long endure, as I have heard re- 
ported. 

There are also in this island great plenty of fresh rivers 
and streams, as you have heard already, and these thor- 
oughly fraught with all kinds of delicate fish accustomed 
to be found in rivers. The whole isle likewise is very full 
of hills, of which some (though not very many) are of ex- 
ceeding height, and divers extending themselves very far 
from the beginning ; as we may see by Shooter's Hill, which, 
rising east of London and not far from the Thames, run- 
neth along the south side of the island westward until it 
come to Cornwall. Like unto these also are the Crowdon 
Hills, which, though under divers names (as also the other 
from the Peak), do run into the borders of Scotland. What 
should I speak of the Cheviot Hills, which reach twenty 
miles in length? of the Black Mountains in Wales, which 
go from (*) to (*) miles at the least in length? of the 
Clee Hills in Shropshire, which come within four miles of 
Ludlow, and are divided from some part of Worcester by 
the Leme? of the Crames in Scotland, and of our Chiltern, 
which are eighteen miles at the least from one end of them, 
which reach from Henley in Oxfordshire to Dunstable in 
Bedfordshire, and are very well replenished with wood and 
corn, notwithstanding that the most part yield a sweet 
short grass, profitable for sheep? Wherein albeit they of 
Scotland do somewhat come behind us, yet their outward 
defect is inwardly recompensed, not only with plenty of 
quarries (and those of sundry kinds of marble, hard stone, 
and fine alabaster), but also rich mines of metal, as shall 
be shewed hereafter. 

In this island the winds are commonly more strong and 
fierce than in any other places of the main (which Cardane 
also espied) : and that is often seen upon the naked hills 
not guarded with trees to bear and keep it off. That 
grievous inconvenience also enforceth our nobility, gentry, 
and communality to build their houses in the valleys, leav- 
ing the high grounds unto their corn 'and cattle, lest the 
cold and stormy blasts of winter should breed them greater 

* Here lacks. — H. 



326 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

annoyance; whereas in other regions each one desireth to 
set his house aloft on the hill, not only to be seen afar off, 
and cast forth his beams of stately and curious workman- 
ship into every quarter of the country, but also (in hot 
habitations) for coldness sake of the air, sith the heat is 
never so vehement on the hill-top as in the valley, because 
the reverberation of the sun's beams either reacheth not 
so far as the highest, or else becometh not so strong as 
when it is reflected upon the lower soil. 

But to leave our buildings unto the purposed place (which 
notwithstanding have very much increased, I mean for 
curiosity and cost, in England, Wales, and Scotland, within 
these few years) and to return to the soil again. Certainly 
it is even now in these our days grown to be much more 
fruitful than it hath been in times past. The cause is for 
that our countrymen are grown to be more painful, skilful, 
and careful through recompense of gain, than heretofore 
they have been : insomuch that my synchroni or time fellows 
can reap at this present great commodity in a little room; 
whereas of late years a great compass hath yielded but 
small profit, and this only through the idle and negligent 
occupation of such as daily manured and had the same in 
occupying. I might set down examples of these things out 
of all the parts of this island — that is to say, many of 
England, more out of Scotland, but most of all out of 
Wales: in which two last rehearsed, very other little food 
and livelihood was wont to be looked for (beside flesh) 
more than the soil of itself and the cow gave, the people 
in the meantime living idly, dissolutely, and by picking and 
stealing one from another. All which vices are now (for 
the most part) relinquished, so that each nation manureth 
her own with triple commodity to that it was before time. 

The pasture of this island is according to the nature and 
bounty of the soil, whereby in most places it is plentiful, 
very fine, batable, and such as either fatteth our cattle with 
speed or yieldeth great abundance of milk and cream 
whereof the yellowest butter and finest cheese are made. 
But where the blue clay aboundeth (which hardly, drinketh 
up the winter's water in long season) there the grass is 
speary, rough, and very apt for bushes: by which occasion 



OF AIR, SOIL, AND COMMODITIES 327 

it becometh nothing so profitable unto the owner as the 
other. The best pasture ground of all England is in Wales, 
and of all the pasture in Wales that of Cardigan is the 
chief. I speak of the same which is to be found in the 
mountains there, where the hundredth part of the grass 
growing is not eaten, but suffered to rot on the ground, 
whereby the soil becometh matted and divers bogs and 
quickmoors made withal in long continuance: because all 
the cattle in the country are not able to eat it down. If it 
be accounted good soil on which a man may lay a wand 
over night and on the morrow find it hidden and overgrown 
with grass, it is not hard to find plenty thereof in many 
places of this land. Nevertheless such is the fruitfulness 
of the aforesaid county that it far surmounteth this pro- 
portion, whereby it may be compared for batableness with 
Italy, which in my time is called the paradise of the world, 
although by reason of the wickedness of such as dwell 
therein it may be called the sink and drain of hell: so that 
whereas they were wont to say of us that our land is good 
but our people evil, they did but only speak it; whereas we 
know by experience that the soil of Italy is a noble soil, but 
the dwellers therein far off any virtue or goodness. 

Our meadows are either bottoms (whereof we have great 
store, and those very large, because our soil is hilly) or 
else such as we call land meads, and borrowed from the 
best and fattest pasturages. The first of them are yearly 
and often overflown by the rising of such streams as pass 
through the same, or violent falls of land-waters, that 
descend from the hills about them. The other are seldom 
or never overflown, and that is the cause wherefore their 
grass is shorter than that of the bottoms, and yet is it far 
more fine, wholesome, and batable, sith the hay of our low 
meadows is not only full of sandy cinder, which breedeth 
sundry diseases in our cattle, but also more rowty, foggy, 
and full of flags, and therefore not so profitable for store 
and forrage as the higher meads be. The difference further- 
more in their commodities is great; for, whereas in our 
land meadows we have not often above one good load of 
hay, or peradventure a little more in an acre of ground (I 
use the word carrucata, or carruca, which is a wain load, 

(u) hc xxxv 



328 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

and, as I remember, used by Pliny, lib. 33, cap. 2), in low 
meadows we have sometimes three, but commonly two or 
upwards, as experience hath oft confirmed. 

Of such as are twice mowed I speak not, sith their later 
math is not so wholesome for cattle as the first; although 
in the mouth more pleasant for the time: for thereby they 
become oftentimes to be rotten, or to increase so fast in 
blood, that the garget and other diseases do consume many 
of them before the owners can seek out any remedy, by 
phlebotomy or otherwise. Some superstitious fools suppose 
that they which die of the garget are ridden with the night- 
mare, and therefore they hang up stones which naturally 
have holes in them, and must be found unlooked for ; as if 
such a stone were an apt cockshot for the devil to run 
through and solace himself withal, while the cattle go scot- 
free and are not molested by him ! But if I should set 
down but half the toys that superstition hath brought into 
our husbandmen's heads in this and other behalf, it would ask 
a greater volume than is convenient for such a purpose, where- 
fore it shall suffice to have said thus much of these things. 

The yield of our corn-ground is also much after this rate 
following. Throughout the land (if you please to make an 
estimate thereof by the acre) in mean and indifferent years, 
wherein each acre of rye or wheat, well tilled and dressed, 
will yield commonly sixteen or twenty bushels, an acre of 
barley six-and-thirty bushels, of oats and such like four or 
five quarters, which proportion is notwithstanding oft abated 
toward the north, as it is oftentimes surmounted in the 
south. Of mixed corn, as peas and beans, sown together, 
tares and oats (which they call bulmong), rye and wheat 
(named miscelin), here is no place to speak, yet their yield 
is nevertheless much after this proportion, as I have often 
marked. And yet is not this our great foison comparable 
to that of hotter countries of the main. But, of all that I 
ever read, the increase which Eldred Danus writeth of in 
his De imperie Judceorum in ^Ethiopia surmounteth, where 
he saith that in the field near to the Sabbatike river, called 
in old time Gosan, the ground is so fertile that every grain 
of barley growing doth yield an hundred kernels at the 
least unto the owner. 



OF AIR, SOIL, AND COMMODITIES 329 

Of late years also we have found and taken up a great 
trade in planting of hops, whereof our moory hitherto and 
unprofitable grounds do yield such plenty and increase that 
there are few farmers or occupiers in the country which 
have not gardens and hops growing of their own, and those 
far better than do come from Flanders unto us. Certes the 
corruptions used by the Flemings, and forgery daily prac- 
tised in this kind of ware, gave us occasion to plant them 
here at home; so that now we may spare and send many 
over unto them. And this I know by experience, that some 
one man by conversion of his moory grounds into hopyards, 
whereof before he had no commodity, doth raise yearly by 
so little as twelve acres in compass two hundred marks — all 
charges borne towards the maintenance of his family. 
Which industry God continue ! though some secret friends 
of Flemings let not to exclaim against this commodity, as 
a spoil of wood, by reason of the poles, which nevertheless 
after three years do also come to the fire, and spare their 
other fuel. 

The cattle which we breed are commonly such as for 
greatness of bone, sweetness of flesh, and other benefits to 
be reaped by the same, give place unto none other; as may 
appear first by our oxen, whose largeness, height, weight, 
tallow, hides, and horns are such as none of any other na- 
tion do commonly or may easily exceed them. Our sheep 
likewise, for good taste of flesh, quantity of limbs, fineness 
of fleece, caused by their hardness of pasturage and abun- 
dance of increase (for in many places they bring forth 
two or three at an eaning), give no place unto any, more 
than do our goats, who in like sort do follow the same order, 
and our deer come not behind. As for our conies, I have 
seen them so fat in some soils, especially about Meall and 
Disnege, that the grease of one being weighed hath peised 
very near six or seven ounces. All which benefits we first 
refer to the grace and goodness of God, and next of all 
unto the bounty of our soil, which he hath endued with so 
notable and commodious fruitfulness. 

But, as I mean to intreat of these things more largely 
hereafter, so will I touch in this place one benefit which our 
nation wanteth, and that is wine, the fault whereof is not 



330 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

in our soil, but the negligence of our countrymen (especially 
of the south parts), who do not inure the same to this com- 
modity, and which by reason of long discontinuance is now 
become inapt to bear any grapes almost for pleasure and 
shadow, much less then the plain fields or several vineyards 
for advantage and commodity. Yet of late time some have 
essayed to deal for wine (as to your lordship also is right 
well known). But sith that liquor, when it cometh to the 
drinking, hath been found more hard than that which is 
brought from beyond the sea, and the cost of planting and 
keeping thereof so chargeable that they may buy it far 
better cheap from other countries, they have given over 
their enterprises without any consideration that, as in all 
other things, so neither the ground itself in the beginning, 
nor success of their travel, can answer their expectation at 
the first, until such time as the soil be brought as it were 
into acquaintance with this commodity, and that provision 
may be made for the more easiness of charge to be em- 
ployed upon the same. 

If it be true that where wine doth last and endure well 
there it will grow no worse, I muse not a little wherefore 
the planting of vines should be neglected in England. That 
this liquor might have grown in this island heretofore, first 
the charter that Probus the Emperor gave equally to us, 
the Gauls, and Spaniards, is one sufficient testimony. And 
that it did grow here (beside the testimony of Beda, lib. I., 
cap. i) the old notes of tithes for wine that yet remain in 
the accounts of some parsons and vicars in Kent, elsewhere, 
besides the records of sundry suits, commenced in divers 
ecclesiastical courts, both in Kent, Surrey, etc., also the en- 
closed parcels almost in every abbey yet called the vine- 
yards, may be a notable witness, as also the plot which we 
now call East Smithfield in London, given by Canutus, 
sometime king of this land, with other soil thereabout, unto 
certain of his knights, with the liberty of a Guild which 
thereof was called Knighton Guild. The truth is (saith 
John Stow, our countryman and diligent traveller in the 
old estate of this my native city) that it is now named Port- 
soken Ward, and given in time past to the religious house 
within Aldgate. Howbeit first Otwell, the archovel, Otto, 



OF AIR, SOIL, AND COMMODITIES 331 

and finally Geffrey Earl of Essex, constables of the Tower 
of London, withheld that portion from the said house until 
the reign of King Stephen, and thereof made a vineyard to 
their great commodity and lucre. The Isle of Ely also was 
in the first times of the Normans called Le He des Vignes. 
And good record appeareth that the bishop there had yearly 
three or four tun at the least given him nomine decimce, 
beside whatsoever over-sum of the liquor did accrue to 
him by leases and other excheats whereof also I have seen 
mention. Wherefore our soil is not to be blamed, as though 
our nights were so exceeding short that in August and 
September the moon, which is lady of moisture and chief 
ripener of this liquor, cannot in any wise shine long enough 
upon the same: a very mere toy and fable, right worthy to 
be suppressed, because experience convinceth the upholders 
thereof even in the Rhenish wines. 

The time hath been also that woad, wherewith our 
countrymen dyed their faces (as Caesar saith), that they 
might seem terrible to their enemies in the field (and also 
women and their daughters-in-law did stain their bodies 
and go naked, in that pickle, to the sacrifices of their gods, 
coveting to resemble therein the Ethiopians, as Pliny saith, 
(lib. 22, cap. i), and also madder have been (next unto our 
tin and wools) the chief commodities and merchandise of 
this realm. I find also that rape oil hath been made within 
this land. But now our soil either will not, or at the least- 
wise may not, bear either woad or madder. I say not that 
the ground is not able so to do, but that we are negligent, 
afraid of the pilling of our grounds, and careless of our 
own profits, as men rather willing to buy the same of others 
than take any pain to plant them here at home. The like 
I may say of flax, which by law ought to be sown in every 
country town in England, more or less ; but I see no success 
of that good and wholesome law, sith it is rather con- 
temptuously rejected than otherwise dutifully kept in any 
place in England. 

Some say that our great number of laws do breed a gen- 
eral negligence and contempt of all good order, because we 
have so many that no subject can live without the trans- 
gression of some of them, and that the often alteration of 



332 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

our ordinances doth much harm in this respect, which (after 
Aristotle) doth seem to carry some reason withal, for (as 
Cornelius Gallus hath) — 

" Eventus varios res nova semper habet." 1 

But very many let not to affirm that the greedy corruption 
of the promoters on the one side, facility in dispensing with 
good laws and first breach of the same in the lawmakers 
and superiors and private respects of their establishment 
on the other, are the greatest causes why the inferiors 
regard no good order, being always so ready to offend with- 
out any faculty one way as they are otherwise to presume 
upon the examples of their betters when any hold is to be 
taken. But as in these things I have no skill, so I wish that 
fewer licences for the private commodity but of a few were 
granted (not that thereby I deny the maintenance of the 
prerogative royal, but rather would with all my heart that 
it might be yet more honourably increased), and that every 
one which by fee'd friendship (or otherwise) doth attempt 
to procure ought from the prince that may profit but few 
and prove hurtful to many might be at open assizes and ses- 
sions denounced enemy to his country and commonwealth 
of the land. 

Glass also hath been made here in great plenty before, 
and in the time of the Romans ; and the said stuff also, be- 
side" fine scissors, shears, collars of gold and silver for 
women's necks, cruises and cups of amber, were a parcel 
of the tribute which Augustus in his days laid upon this 
island. In like sort he charged the Britons with certain 
implements and vessels of ivory (as Strabo saith) ; whereby 
it appeareth that in old time our countrymen were far more 
industrious and painful in the use and application of the 
benefits of their country than either after the coming of 
the Saxons or Normans, in which they gave themselves 
more to idleness and following of the wars. 

If it were requisite that I should speak of the sundry 
kinds of mould, as the cledgy, or clay, whereof are divers 
sorts (red, blue, black, and white), also the red or white 

1 " An innovation has always mixed effects." 



OF AIR, SOIL, AND COMMODITIES 333 

sandy, the loamy, roselly, gravelly, chalky, or black, I could 
say that there are so many divers veins in Britain as else- 
where in any quarter of like quantity in the world. How- 
beit this I must need confess, that the sand and clay do 
bear great sway: but clay most of all, as hath been and yet 
is always seen and felt through plenty and dearth of corn. 
For if this latter (I mean the clay) do yield her full in- 
crease (which it doth commonly in dry years for wheat), 
then is there general plenty: whereas if it fail, then have 
we scarcity, according to the old rude verse set down of 
England, but to be understood of the whole island, as ex- 
perience doth confirm — 

" When the sand doth serve the clay, 
Then may we sing well-away ; 
But when the clay doth serve the sand, 
Then is it merry with England." 

I might here intreat of the famous valleys in England, of 
which one is called the Vale of White Horse, another of 
Evesham (commonly taken for the granary of Worcester- 
shire), the third of Aylesbury, that goeth by Thame, the 
roots of Chiltern Hills, to Dunstable, Newport Pagnel, 
Stony Stratford, Buckingham, Birstane Park, etc. Likewise 
of the fourth, of Whitehart or Blackmoor in Dorsetshire. 
The fifth, of Ringdale or Renidale, corruptly called King- 
taile, that lieth (as mine author saith) upon the edge of 
Essex and Cambridgeshire, and also the Marshwood Vale : 
but, forsomuch as I know not well their several limits, I 
give over to go any further in their description. In like 
sort it should not be amiss to speak of our fens, although 
our country be not so full of this kind of soil as the parts 
beyond the seas (to wit, Narbonne, etc.), and thereto of 
other pleasant bottoms, the which are not only endued with 
excellent rivers and great store of corn and fine fodder for 
neat and horses in time of the year (whereby they are ex- 
ceeding beneficial unto their owners), but also of no small 
compass and quantity in ground. For some of our fens are 
well known to be either of ten, twelve, sixteen, twenty, or 
thirty miles in length, that of the Girwies yet passing all 
the rest, which is full sixty (as I have often read). Wherein 



334 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

also Ely, the famous isle, standeth, which is seven miles 
every way, and whereunto there is no access but by three 
causies, whose inhabitants in like sort by an old privilege 
may take wood, sedge turf, etc., to burn, likewise hay for 
their cattle and thatch for their houses of custom, and each 
occupier in his appointed quantity throughout the isle; 
albeit that covetousness hath now begun somewhat to 
abridge this large benevolence and commodity, as well in 
the said isle as most other places of this land. 

Finally, I might discourse in like order of the large com- 
mons, laid out heretofore by the lords of the soil for the 
benefit of such poor as inhabit within the compass of their 
manors. But, as the true intent of the givers is now in 
most places defrauded, insomuch that not the poor tenants 
inhabitating upon the same, but their landlords, have all 
the commodity and gain. Wherefore I mean not at this 
present to deal withal, but reserve the same wholly unto the 
due place, whilst I go forward with the rest, setting down 
nevertheless by the way a general commendation of the 
whole island, which I find in an ancient monument, much 
unto this effect — 

" Ilia quidem longe Celebris splendore, beata, 
Glebis, lacte, favis, supererainet insula cunctis, 
Quas regit ille Deus, spumanti cujus ab ore 
Profluit oceanus," etc. 

And a little after — 

" Testis Lundoniaratibus, Wintonia Baccho, 
Herefordia grege, Worcestria frugeredundans, 
Batha lacu, Salabyra feris, Cantuaria pisce, 
Eboraca sylvis, Excestria clara metallis, 
Norwicum Dacis hybernis, Cestria Gallis, 
Cicestrum Norwagenis, Dunelmia prsepinguis, 
Testis Lincolnia gens infmita decore, 
Testis Eli formosa situ, Doncastria visu," etc. 



CHAPTER XI 

OF SUNDRY MINERALS AND METALS 

[i577> Book III., Chapters 16 and 18; 1587, Book III., Chapters 
10 and 11.] 

WITH how great benefits this island of ours hath been 
endued from the beginning I hope there is no 
godly man but will readily confess, and yield unto 
the Lord God his due honour for the same. For we are 
blessed every way, and there is no temporal commodity neces- 
sary to be had or craved by any nation at God's hand that 
he hath not in most abundant manner bestowed upon us 
Englishmen, if we could see to use it, and be thankful for the 
same. But alas ! (as I said in the chapter precedent) 
we love to enrich them that care not for us, but for our 
great commodities: and one trifling toy not worth the car- 
riage, coming (as the proverb saith) in three ships from 
beyond the sea, is more worth with us than a right good 
jewel easy to be had at home. They have also the cast to 
teach us to neglect our own things ; for, if they see that we 
begin to make any account of our commodities (if it be so 
that they have also the like in their own countries) they 
will suddenly abase the same to so low a price that our 
gain not being worthy our travel, and the same commodity 
with less cost ready to be had at home from other countries 
(though but for a while), it causeth us to give over our 
endeavours and as it were by-and-by to forget the matter 
whereabout we went before, to obtain them at their hands. 
And this is the only cause wherefore our commodities are 
oft so little esteemed of. Some of them can say, without 
any teacher, that they will buy the case of a fox of an 
Englishman for a groat, and make him afterwards give 
twelve pence for the tail. Would to God we might once 

335 



336 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

wax wiser, and each one endeavour that the commonwealth 
of England may flourish again in her old rate, and that our 
commodities may be fully wrought at home (as cloth if you 
will for an example) and not carried out to be shorn and 
dressed abroad, while our clothworkers here do starve and 
beg their bread, and for lack of daily practice utterly 
neglect to be skilful in this science! But to my purpose. 

We have in England great plenty of quicksilver, anti- 
mony, sulphur, black lead, and orpiment red and yellow. 
We have also the finest alum (wherein the diligence of one 
of the greatest favourers of the commonwealth of England 
of a subject 1 hath been of late egregriously abused, and 
even almost with barbarous incivility) and of no less force 
against fire, if it were used in our parietings, than that of 
Lipari, which only was in use sometime amongst the Asians 
and Romans and whereof Sylla had such trial that when 
he meant to have burned a tower of wood erected by Ar- 
chelaus, the lieutenant of Mithridates, he could by no 
means set it on fire in a long time, because it was washed 
over with alum, as were also the gates of the temple of 
Jerusalem with like effect, and perceived when Titus com- 
manded fire to be put unto the same. Besides this, we have 
also the natural cinnabarum or vermillion, the sulphurous 
glebe called bitumen in old time, for mortar, and yet burned 
in lamps where oil is scant and geson ; the chrysocolla, 
copperas, and mineral stone, whereof petriolum is made, 
and that which is most strange, the mineral pearl, which as 
they are for greatness and colour most excellent of all 
other, so are they digged out of the main land and in sundry 
places far distant from the shore. Certes the western part 
of the land hath in times past greatly abounded with these 
and many other rare and excellent commodities, but now 
they are washed away by the violence of the sea, which 
hath devoured the greatest part of Cornwall and Devon- 
shire on either side; and it doth appear yet by good record 
that, whereas now there is a great distance between the 
Scilly Isles and the point of the Land's End, there was of 
late years to speak of scarcely a brook or drain of one 
fathom water between them, if so much, as by those evi- 

iThe Lord Mountjoy.— H. 



OF MINERALS AND METALS 337 

dences appeareth, and are yet to be seen in the hands of the 
lord and chief owner of those isles. But to proceed. 

Of coal-mines we have such plenty in the north and 
western parts of our island as may suffice for all the realm 
of England; and so must they do hereafter indeed, if wood 
be not better cherished than it is at this present. And so 
say the truth, notwithstanding that very many of them are 
carried into other countries of the main, yet their greatest 
trade beginneth now to grow from the forge into the 
kitchen and hall, as may appear already in most cities and 
towns that lie about the coast, where they have but little 
other fuel except it be turf and hassock. I marvel not a 
little that there is no trade of these into Sussex and South- 
amptonshire, for want thereof the smiths do work their iron 
with charcoal. I think that far carriage be the only cause, 
which is but a slender excuse to enforce us to carry them 
into the main from hence. 

Besides our coal-mines, we have pits in like sort of white 
plaster, and of fat and white and other coloured marble, 
wherewith in many places the inhabitors do compest their 
soil, and which doth benefit their land in ample manner for 
many years to come. We have saltpetre for our ordinance 
and salt soda for our glass, and thereto in one place a kind 
of earth (in Southery; as I ween, hard by Codington, and 
sometime in the tenure of one Croxton of London) which 
is so fine to make moulds for goldsmiths and casters of 
metal, that a load of it was worth five shillings thirty years 
ago; none such again they say in England. But whether 
there be or not, let us not be unthankful to God, for these 
and other his benefits bestowed upon us, whereby he 
sheweth himself a loving and merciful father unto us, which 
contrariwise return unto him in lieu of humility and obedi- 
ence nothing but wickedness, avarice, mere contempt of his 
will, pride, excess, atheism, and no less than Jewish ingrati- 
tude. 2 

All metals receive their beginning of quicksilver and 
sulphur, which are as mother and father to them. And 
such is the purpose of nature in their generations that she 

3 Here ends the chapter entitled " Minerals," and the one on " Metals " 
begins. — W. 



338 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

tendeth always to the procreation of gold; nevertheless she 
seldom reacheth unto that her end, because of the unequal 
mixture and proportion of these two in the substance en- 
gendered, whereby impediment and corruption is induced, 
which as it is more or less doth shew itself in the metal that 
is produced. . . . 

And albeit that we have no such abundance of these (as 
some other countries do yield), yet have my rich country- 
men store enough of both in their purses, where in time 
past they were wont to have least, because the garnishing 
of our churches, tabernacles, images, shrines, and apparel 
of the priests consumed the greatest part, as experience 
hath confirmed. 

Of late my countrymen have found out I wot not what 
voyage into the West Indies, from whence they have 
brought some gold, whereby our country is enriched; but 
of all that ever adventured into those parts, none have sped 
better than Sir Francis Drake, whose success (1582) hath 
far passed even his own expectation. One John Frobisher 
in like manner, attempting to seek out a shorter cut by the 
northerly regions into the peaceable sea and kingdom of 
Cathay, happened (1577) upon certain islands by the way, 
wherein great plenty of much gold appeared, and so much 
that some letted not to give out for certainty that Solomon 
had his gold from thence, wherewith he builded the temple. 
This golden shew made him so desirous also of like success 
that he left off his former voyage and returned home to 
bring news of such things as he had seen. >But, when after 
another voyage it was found to be but dross, he gave over 
both the enterprises, and now keepeth home without any 
desire at all to seek into far countries. In truth, such 
was the plenty of ore there seen and to be had that, if it 
had holden perfect, might have furnished all the world 
with abundance of that metal; the journey also was short 
and performed in four or five months, which was a notable 
encouragement. But to proceed. 

Tin and lead, metals which Strabo noteth in his time to 
be carried unto Marsilis from hence, as Diodorus also con- 
firmeth, are very plentiful with us, the one in Cornwall, 
Devonshire, and elsewhere in the north, the other in Derby- 



OF MINERALS AND METALS 339 

shire, Weredale, and sundry places of this island; whereby 
my countrymen do reap no small commodity, but especially 
our pewterers, who in times past employed the use of pewter 
only upon dishes, pots, and a few other trifles for service 
here at home, whereas now they are grown unto such 
exquisite cunning that they can in manner imitate by in- 
fusion any form or fashion of cup, dish, salt bowl, or 
goblet, which is made by goldsmiths' craft, though they be 
never so curious, exquisite, and artificially forged. Such 
furniture of household of this metal as we commonly call 
by the name of vessel is sold usually by the garnish, which 
doth contain twelve platters, twelve dishes, twelve saucers, 
and those are either of silver fashion or else with broad or 
narrow brims, and bought by the pound, which is now 
valued at six or seven pence, or peradventure at eight pence. 
Of porringers, pots, and other like, I speak not, albeit that 
in the making of all these things there is such exquisite 
diligence used, I mean for the mixture of the metal and 
true making of this commodity (by reason of sharp laws 
provided in that behalf), as the like is not to be found in 
any other trade. I have been also informed that it con- 
sisteth of a composition which hath thirty pounds of kettle 
brass to a thousand pounds of tin, whereunto they add 
three or four pounds of tin-glass; but as too much of this 
doth make the stuff brickie, so the more the brass be, the 
better is the pewter, and more profitable unto him that doth 
buy and purchase the same. But to proceed. 

In some places beyond the sea a garnish of good flat 
English pewter of an ordinary making (I say flat, because 
dishes and platters in my time begin to be made deep like 
basins, and are indeed more convenient both for sauce, 
broth, and keeping the meat warm) is esteemed almost so 
precious as the like number of vessels that are made of fine 
silver, and in manner no less desired amongst the great 
estates, whose workmen are nothing so skilful in that trade 
as ours, neither their metal so good, nor plenty so great, as 
we have here in England. The Romans made excellent 
looking-glasses of our English tin, howbeit our workmen 
were not then so exquisite in that feat as the Brundusians, 
wherefore the wrought metal was carried over unto them 



340 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

by way of merchandise, and very highly were those glasses 
esteemed of till silver came generally in place, which in 
the end brought the tin into such contempt that in manner 
every dishwasher refused to look in other than silver glasses 
for the attiring of her head. Howbeit the making of silver 
glasses had been in use before Britain was known unto the 
Romans, for I read that one Praxiteles devised them in the 
young time of Pompey, which was before the coming of 
Caesar into this island. 

There were mines of lead sometimes also in Wales, which 
endured so long till the people had consumed all their wood 
by melting of the same (as they did also at Comeriswith, six 
miles from Stradfleur), and I suppose that in Pliny's time 
the abundance of lead (whereof he speaketh) was to be 
found in those parts, in the seventeenth of his thirty-fourth 
book; also he affirmeth that it lay in the very sward of the 
earth, and daily gotten in such plenty that the Romans made 
a restraint of the carriage thereof to Rome, limiting how 
much should yearly be wrought and transported over the 
sea. 3 

Iron is found in many places, as in Sussex, Kent, Were- 
dale, Mendip, Walshall, as also in Shropshire, but chiefly 
in the woods betwixt Belvos and Willock (or Wicberry) 
near Manchester, and elsewhere in Wales. Of which mines 
divers do bring forth so fine and good stuff as any that 
cometh from beyond the sea, beside the infinite gains to the 
owners, if we would so accept it, or bestow a little more 
cost in the refining of it. It is also of such toughness, that 
it yieldeth to the making of claricord wire in some places 
of the realm. Nevertheless, it was better cheap with us 
when strangers only brought it hither; for it is our quality 
when we get any commodity to use it with extremity towards 
our own nation, after we have once found the means to 
shut out foreigners from the bringing in of the like. It 
breedeth in like manner great expense and waste of wood, 
as doth the making of our pots and table vessels of glass, 
wherein is much loss, sith it is so quickly broken; and yet 
(as I think) easy to be made tougher, if our alchemists 
could once find the true birth or production of the red man, 

3 Here follow two stories about crows and miners. — W. 



OF MINERALS AND METALS 341 

whose mixture would induce a metallic toughness unto it, 
whereby it should abide the hammer. 

Copper is lately not found, but rather restored again to 
light. For I have read of copper to have been heretofore 
gotten in our island; howbeit as strangers have most com- 
monly the governance of our mines, so they hitherto make 
small gains of this in hand in the north parts; for (as I am 
informed) the profit doth very hardly countervail the 
charges, whereat wise men do not a little marvel, consider- 
ing the abundance which that mine doth seem to offer, and, 
as it were, at hand. Leland, our countryman, noteth sundry 
great likelihoods of natural copper mines to be eastwards, 
as between Dudman and Trewardth, in the sea cliffs, beside 
other places, whereof divers are noted here and there in 
sundry places of this book already, and therefore it shall 
be but in vain to repeat them here again. As for that which 
is gotten out of the marchasite, I speak not of it, sith it is 
not incident to my purpose. In Dorsetshire also a copper 
mine lately found is brought to good perfection. 

As for our steel, it is not so good for edge-tools as that 
of Cologne, and yet the one is often sold for the other, and 
like tale used in both, that is to say, thirty gads to the 
sheaf, and twelve sheaves to the burden. 

Our alchemy is artificial, and thereof our spoons and some 
salts are commonly made and preferred before our pewter 
with some,* albeit in truth it be much subject to corruption, 
putrefaction, more heavy and foul to handle than our 
pewter; yet some ignorant persons affirm it to be a metal 
more natural, and the very same which Encelius calleth 
plumbum cinereum, the Germans wisemute, mithan, and 
counterfeie, adding that where it groweth silver cannot be 
far off. Nevertheless it is known to be a mixture of brass, 
lead, and tin (of which this latter occupieth the one-half), 
but after another proportion than is used in pewter. But 
alas, I am persuaded that neither the old Arabians nor new 
alchemists of our time did ever hear of it, albeit that the 
name thereof do seem to come out of their forge. For the 
common sort indeed do call it alchemy, an unwholesome 
metal (God wot) and worthy to be banished and driven 

* Some tell me that it is a mixture of brass, lead, and tin. — H. 



342 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

out of the land. And thus I conclude with this discourse, as 
having no more to say of the metals of my country, except I 
should talk of brass, bell metal, and such as are brought 
over for merchandise from other countries; and yet I can- 
not but say that there is some brass found also in England, 
but so small is the quantity that it is not greatly to be 
esteemed or accounted for. 



CHAPTER XII 

OF CATTLE KEPT FOR PROFIT 
[1577, Book III., Chapter 8; 1587, Book III., Chapter 1.] 

THERE is no kind of tame cattle usually to be seen in 
these parts of the world whereof we have not some, 
and that great store, in England, as horses, oxen, 
sheep, goats, swine, and far surmounting the like in other 
countries, as may be proved with ease. For where are oxen 
commonly made more large of bone, horses more decent 
and pleasant in pace, kine more commodious for the pail, 
sheep more profitable for wool, swine more wholesome of 
flesh, and goats more gainful to their keepers than here with 
us in England ? But, to speak of them peculiarly, I suppose 
that our kine are so abundant in yield of milk, whereof we 
make our butter and cheese, as the like any where else, and 
so apt for the plough in divers places as either our horses 
or oxen. And, albeit they now and then twin, yet herein 
they seem to come short of that commodity which is looked 
for in other countries, to wit, in that they bring forth most 
commonly but one calf at once. The gains also gotten by 
a cow (all charges borne) hath been valued at twenty shill- 
ings yearly; but now, as land is enhanced, this proportion 
of gain is much abated, and likely to decay more and more, 
if ground arise to be yet dearer — which God forbid, if it be 
His will and pleasure. I heard of late of a cow in Warwick- 
shire, belonging to Thomas Breuer of Studley, which in six 
years had sixteen calves, that is four at once in three calv- 
ings and twice twins, which unto many may seem a thing 
incredible. In like manner our oxen are such as the like 
are not to be found in any country of Europe, both for great- 
ness of body and sweetness of flesh or else would not the 
Roman writers have preferred them before those of Liguria. 

(v) hc xxxv 



344 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

In most places our graziers are now grown to be so cunning 
that if they do but see an ox or bullock, and come to the feel- 
ing of him, they will give a guess at his weight, and how many 
score or stone of flesh and tallow he beareth, how the butcher 
may live by the sale, and what he may have for the skin 
and tallow, which is a point of skill not commonly practised 
heretofore. Some such graziers also are reported to ride 
with velvet coats and chains of gold about them and in their 
absence their wives will not let to supply those turns with no 
less skill than their husbands: which is a hard work for the 
poor butcher, sith he through this means can seldom be rich 
or wealthy by his trade. In like sort the flesh of our oxen 
and kine is sold both by hand and by weight as the buyer 
will ; but in young ware rather by weight especially for the 
steer and heifer, sith the finer beef is the lightest, whereas 
the flesh of bulls and old kine, etc., is of sadder substance, 
and therefore much heavier as it lieth in the scale. Their 
horns also are known to be more fair and large in England 
than in any other places, except those which are to be seen 
among the Pseones, which quality, albeit that it be given to 
our breed generally by nature, yet it is now and then helped 
also by art. For, when they be very young, many graziers 
will oftentimes anoint their budding horns or tender tips 
with honey, which mollifieth the natural hardness of that 
substance, and thereby maketh them to grow unto a notable 
greatness. Certes it is not strange in England to see oxen 
whose horns have the length of a yard or three feet between 
the tips, and they themselves thereto so tall as the height 
of a mar. of mean and indifferent stature is scarce 
equal unto them. Nevertheless it is much to be lamented 
that our general breed of cattle is not better looked unto; 
for the greatest occupiers wean least store, because they 
can buy them (as they say) far better cheap than to 
raise and bring them up. In my time a cow hath risen from 
four nobles to four marks by this means, which notwith- 
standing were no great price if they did yearly bring 
forth more than one calf a piece, as I hear they do in other 
countries. 

Our horses, moreover, are high, and, although not com- 
monly of such huge greatness as in other places of the main, 



OF CATTLE KEPT FOR PROFIT 345 

yet, if you respect the easiness of their pace, it is hard to 
say where their like are to be had. Our land doth yield 
no asses, and therefore we want the generation also of mules 
and somers, and therefore the most part of our carriages is 
made by these, which, remaining stoned, are either reserved 
for the cart or appointed to bear such burdens as are con- 
venient for them. Our cart or plough horses (for we use 
them indifferently) are commonly so strong that five or six 
of them (at the most) will draw three thousand weight of 
the greatest tale with ease for a long journey, although it 
be not a load of common usage, which consisteth only of 
two thousand, or fifty foot of timber, forty bushels of 
white salt, or six-and-thirty of bay, of five quarters of wheat, 
experience daily teacheth, and I have elsewhere remembered. 
Such as are kept also for burden will carry four hundred- 
weight commonly without any hurt or hindrance. This 
furthermore is to be noted, that our princes and the nobility 
have their carriage commonly made by carts, whereby it 
cometh to pass that when the queen's majesty doth remove 
from any one place to another, there are usually 400 care- 
wares, which amount to the sum of 2400 horses, appointed out 
of the countries adjoining, whereby her carriage is conveyed 
safely unto the appointed place. Hereby also the ancient 
use of somers and sumpter horses is in manner utterly 
relinquished, which causeth the trains of our princes in 
their progresses to shew far less than those of the kings of 
other nations. 

Such as serve for the saddle are commonly gelded, and 
now grew to be very dear among us, especially if they be 
well coloured, justly limbed, and have thereto an easy 
ambling pace. For our countrymen, seeking their ease in 
every corner where it is to be had, delight very much in 
those qualities, but chiefly in their excellent paces, which, 
besides that it is in manner peculiar unto horses of our 
soil, and not hurtful to the rider or owner sitting on their 
backs, it is moreover very pleasant and delectable in his 
ears, in that the noise of their well-proportioned pace doth 
yield comfortable sound as he travelleth by the way. Yet 
is there no greater deceit used anywhere than among our 
horsekeepers, horsecoursers, and hostlers- for such is the 



346 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

subtle knavery of a great sort of them (without exception of 
any of them be it spoken which deal for private gain) that 
an honest-meaning man shall have very good luck among 
them if he be not deceived by some false trick or other. 

There are certain notable markets wherein great plenty 
of horses and colts is bought and sold, and whereunto such 
as have need resort yearly to buy and make their necessary 
provision of them, as Ripon, Newport Pond, Wolfpit, Har- 
boro', and divers others. But, as most drovers are very 
diligent to bring great store of these unto those places, so 
many of them are too too lewd in abusing such as buy 
them. For they have a custom, to make them look fair to 
the eye, when they come within two days' journey of the 
market to drive them till they sweat, and for the space of 
eight or twelve hours, which, being done, they turn them 
all over the backs into some water, where they stand for a 
season, and then go forward with them to the place ap- 
pointed, where they make sale of their infected ware, and 
such as by this means do fall into many diseases and 
maladies. Of such outlandish horses as are daily brought 
over unto us I speak not, as the jennet of Spain, the 
courser of Naples, the hobby of Ireland, the Flemish roile 
and the Scottish nag, because that further speech of them 
cometh not within the compass of this treatise, and for 
whose breed and maintenance (especially of the greatest 
sort) King Henry the Eighth erected a noble studdery, and 
for a time had very good success with them, till the officers, 
waxing weary, procured a mixed brood of bastard races, 
whereby his good purpose came to little effect. Sir Nicholas 
Arnold of late hath bred the best horses in England, and 
written of the manner of their production: would to God 
his compass of ground were like to that of Pella in Syria, 
wherein the king of that nation had usually a studdery of 
30,000 mares and 300 stallions, as Strabo doth remember, 
lib. 16. But to leave this, let us see what may be said of 
sheep. 

Our sheep are very excellent, sith for sweetness of flesh 
they pass all other. And so much are our wools to be 
preferred before those of Milesia and other places that if 
Jason had known the value of them that are bred and to 



OF CATTLE KEPT FOR PROFIT 347 

be had in Britain he would never have gone to Colchis to 
look for any there. For, as Dionysius Alexandrinus saith 
in his De situ Orbis, it may by spinning be made comparable 
to the spider's web. What fools then are our countrymen, 
in that they seek to bereave themselves of this commodity 
by practising daily how to transfer the same to other nations, 
in carrying over their rams and ewes to breed and increase 
among them ! The first example hereof was given under 
Edward the Fourth, who, not understanding the bottom of 
the suit of sundry traitorous merchants that sought a present 
gain with the perpetual hindrance of their country licensed 
them to carry over certain numbers of them into Spain, who, 
having licence but for a few, shipped very many: a thing 
practised in other commodities also, whereby the prince and 
his land are not seldom times defrauded. But such is our 
nature," and so blind are we indeed, that we see no incon- 
venience before we feel it; and for a present gain we 
regard not what damage may ensue to our posterity. Hereto 
some other man would add also the desire that we have to 
benefit other countries and to impeach our own. And it is, 
so sure as God liveth, that every trifle which cometh from 
beyond the sea, though it be not worth threepence, is more 
esteemed than a continual commodity at home with us, which 
far exceedeth that value. In time past the use of this com- 
modity consisteth (for the most part) in cloth and woolsteds; 
but now, by means of strangers succoured here from domestic 
persecution, the same hath been employed unto sundry 
other uses, as mockados, bays, vellures, grograines, etc., 
whereby the makers have reaped no small commodity. It 
is furthermore to be noted, for the low countries of Belgie 
know it, and daily experience (notwithstanding the sharp- 
ness of our laws to the contrary) doth yet confirm it, that, 
although our rams and wethers do go thither from us never 
so well headed according to their kind, yet after they have 
remained there a while they cast there their heads, and from 
thenceforth they remain polled without any horns at all. 
Certes this kind of cattle is more cherished in England 
than standeth well with the commodity of the commons or 
prosperity of divers towns, whereof some are wholly con- 
verted to their feeding; yet such a profitable sweetness is 



348 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

their fleece, such necessity in their flesh, and so great a 
benefit in the manuring of barren soil with their dung and 
piss, that their superfluous members are the better born 
withal. And there is never a husbandman (for now I speak 
not of our great sheepmasters, of whom some one man hath 
20,000) but hath more or less of this cattle feeding on his 
fallows and short grounds, which yield the finer fleece. 

Nevertheless the sheep of our country are often troubled 
with the rot (as are our swine with the measles, though never 
so generally), and many men are now and then great losers 
by the same; but, after the calamity is over, if they can 
recover and keep their new stock sound for seven years 
together, the former loss will easily be recompensed with 
double commodity. Cardan writeth that our waters are hurt- 
ful to our sheep; howbeit this is but his conjecture, for we 
know that our sheep are infected by going to the water, and 
take the same as a sure and certain token that a rot hath 
gotten hold of them, their livers and lights being already 
distempered through excessive heat, which enforceth them 
the rather to seek unto the water. Certes there is no parcel 
of the main wherein a man shall generally find more fine 
and wholesome water than in England; and therefore it is 
impossible that our sheep should decay by tasting of the 
same. Wherefore the hindrance by rot is rather to be 
ascribed to the unseasonableness and moisture of the weather 
in summer, also their licking in of mildews, gossamire, rowtie 
fogs, and rank grass, full of superfluous juice, but especially 
(I say) to over moist weather, whereby the continual rain 
piercing into their hollow fells soaketh forthwith into their 
flesh, which bringeth them to their baines. Being also 
infected, their first shew of sickness is their desire to drink, 
so that our waters are not unto them causa agritudinis, but 
signum morbi, whatsoever Cardan do maintain to the con- 
trary. There are (and peradventure no small babes) which 
are grown to be such good husbands that they can make 
account of every ten kine to be clearly worth twenty pounds 
in common and indifferent years, if the milk of five sheep be 
daily added to the same. But, as I wot not how true this 
surmise is, because it is no part of my trade, so I am sure 
hereof that some housewives can and do add daily a less 



OF CATTLE KEPT FOR PROFIT 349 

portion of ewe's milk unto the cheese of so many kine, 
whereby their cheese doth the longer abide moist and eateth 
more brickie and mellow than otherwise it would. 

Goats we have plenty, and of sundry colours, in the west 
parts of England, especially in and towards Wales and 
amongst the rocky hills, by whom the owners do reap so 
small advantage : some also are cherished elsewhere in divers 
steeds, for the benefit of such as are diseased with sundry 
maladies, unto whom (as I hear) their milk, cheese, and 
bodies of their young kids are judged very profitable, and 
therefore inquired for of many far and near. Certes I find 
among the writers that the milk of a goat is next in esti- 
mation to that of the woman, for that it helpeth the stomach, 
removeth oppilations and stoppings of the liver, and looseth 
the belly. Some place also next unto it the milk of the ewe, 
and thirdly that of the cow. But hereof I can shew no 
reason; only this I know, that ewe's milk is fulsome, sweet, 
and such in taste as (except such as are used unto it) no 
man will gladly yield to live and feed withal. 

As for swine, there is no place that hath greater store, 
nor more wholesome in eating, than are these here in 
England, which nevertheless do never any good till they 
come to the table. Of these some we eat green for pork, 
and other dried up into bacon to have it in more continuance. 
Lard we make some, though very little, because it is charge- 
able: neither have we such use thereof as is to be seen in 
France and other countries, sith we do either bake our meat 
with sweet suet of beef or mutton and baste all our meat 
with sweet or salt butter or suffer the fattest to baste itself 
by leisure. In champaign countries they are kept by herds, 
and a hogherd appointed to attend and wait upon them, who 
commonly gathereth them together by his noise and cry, 
and leadeth them forth to feed abroad in the fields. In 
some places also women do scour and wet their clothes with 
their dung, as other do with hemlocks and nettles; but such 
is the savour of the clothes touched withal that I cannot 
abide to wear them on my body, more than such as are 
scoured with the refuse soap, than the which (in mine 
opinion) there is none more unkindly savour. 

Of our tame boars we make brawn, which is a kind of 



350 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

meat not usually known to strangers (as I take it), otherwise 
would not the swart Rutters and French cooks, at the loss of 
Calais (where they found great store of this provision almost 
in every house), have attempted with ridiculous success to 
roast, bake, broil, and fry the same for their masters, till they 
were better informed. I have heard moreover how a noble- 
man of England not long since did send over a hogshead of 
brawn ready soused to a Catholic gentleman of France, who, 
supposing it to be fish, reserved it till Lent, at which time he 
did eat thereof with great frugality. Thereto he so well liked 
the provision itself that he wrote over very earnestly, and 
with offer of great recompense, for more of the same fish 
against the year ensuing; whereas if he had known it to 
have been flesh he would not have touched it (I dare say) 
for a thousand crowns without the pope's dispensation. A 
friend of mine also dwelling some time in Spain, having 
certain Jews at his table, did set brawn before them, whereof 
they did eat very earnestly, supposing it to be a kind of 
fish not common in those parts; but when the goodman of 
the house brought in the head in pastime among them, to 
shew what they had eaten, they rose from the table, hied 
them home in haste, each of them procuring himself to 
vomit, some by oil and some by other means, till (as they 
supposed) they had cleansed their stomachs of that pro- 
hibited food. With us it is accounted a great piece of service 
at the table from November until February be ended, but 
chiefly in the Christmas time. With the same also we begin 
our dinners each day after other; and, because it is some- 
what hard of digestion, a draught of malvesey, bastard, or 
muscadel, is usually drank after it, where either of them are 
conveniently to be had; otherwise the meaner sort content 
themselves with their own drink, which at that season 
is generally very strong, and stronger indeed than it is all 
the year beside. It is made commonly of the fore part of a 
tame boar, set up for the purpose by the space of a whole 
year or two, especially in gentlemen's houses (for the hus- 
bandmen and farmers never frank them for their own use 
above three or four months, or half a year at the most), 
in which time he is dieted with oats and peason, and lodged 
on the bare planks of an uneasy coat, till his fat be hardened 



OF CATTLE KEPT FOR PROFIT 351 

sufficiently for their purpose : afterward he is killed, scalded, 
and cut out, and then of his former parts is our brawn 
made. The rest is nothing so fat, and therefore it beareth 
the name of sowse only, and is commonly reserved for the 
serving-man and hind, except it please the owner to have 
any part thereof baked, which are then handled of custom 
after this manner: the hinder parts being cut off, they are 
first drawn with lard, and then sodden; being sodden, they 
are soused in claret wine and vinegar a certain space, and 
afterward baked in pasties, and eaten of many instead of the 
wild boar, and truly it is very good meat: the pestles may 
be hanged up a while to dry before they be drawn with 
lard, if you will, and thereby prove the better. But hereof 
enough, and therefore to come again unto our brawn. The 
neck pieces, being cut off round, are called collars of brawn, 
the shoulders are named shilds, only the ribs retain the 
former denomination, so that these aforesaid pieces deserve 
the name of brawn: the bowels of the beast are commonly 
cast away because of their rankness, and so were likewise 
his stones, till a foolish fantasy got hold of late amongst 
some delicate dames, who have now found the means to dress 
them also with great cost for a dainty dish, and bring 
them to the board as a service among other of like sort, 
though not without note of their desire to the provocation of 
fleshly lust which by this their fond curiosity is not a little re- 
vealed. When the boar is thus cut out each piece is wrapped 
up, either with bulrushes, ozier, peels, tape inkle, 1 or such like, 
and then sodden in a lead or caldron together, till they be so 
tender that a man may thrust a bruised rush or straw clean 
through the fat: which being done, they take it up and lay 
it abroad to cool. Afterward, putting it into close vessels, 
they pour either good small ale or beer mingled with verjuice 
and salt thereto till it be covered, and so let it lie (now and 
then altering and changing the sousing drink lest it should wax 
sour) till occasion serve to spend it out of the way. Some 
use to make brawn of great barrow hogs, and seethe them, 
and souse the whole as they do that of the boar; and in my 
judgment it is the better of both, and more easy of digestion. 
But of brawn thus much, and so much may seem sufficient. 

1 Tape. 



CHAPTER XIII 

OF WILD AND TAME FOWLS 

[1577, Book III., Chapters 9 and 11; 1587, Book III., Chapters 
2 and 5.] 

ORDER requireth that I speak somewhat of the fowls 
also of England, which I may easily divide into 
the wild and tame ; but, alas ! such is my small skill 
in fowls that, to say the truth, I can neither recite their 
numbers nor well distinguish one kind of them from an- 
other. Yet this I have by general knowledge, that there 
is no nation under the sun which hath already in the time 
of the year more plenty of wild fowl than we, for so many 
kinds as our island doth bring forth, and much more would 
have if those of the higher soil might be spared but one year 
or two from the greedy engines of covetous fowlers which 
set only for the pot and purse. Certes this enormity bred 
great troubles in King John's days, insomuch that, going in 
progress about the tenth of his reign, he found little or no 
game wherewith to solace himself or exercise his falcons. 
Wherefore, being at Bristow in the Christmas ensuing, he 
restrained all manner of hawking or taking of wild fowl 
throughout England for a season, whereby the land within 
few years was thoroughly replenished again. But what 
stand I upon this impertinent discourse? Of such there- 
fore as are bred in our land, we have the crane, the bitter, 1 
the wild and tame swan, the bustard, the heron, curlew, 
snite, wildgoose, wind or doterell, brant, lark, plover (of 
both sorts), lapwing, teal, widgeon, mallard, sheldrake, 
shoveller, peewitt, seamew, barnacle, quail (who, only with 
man, are subject to the falling sickness), the knot, the oliet 
or olive, the dunbird, woodcock, partridge, and pheasant, be- 
sides divers others, whose names to me are utterly un- 

1 The proper English name of the bird which vulgar acceptance forces us 
to now call bittern. — W. 

352 



OF WILD AND TAME FOWLS 353 

known, and much more the taste of their flesh, wherewith 
I was never acquainted. But as these serve not at all sea- 
sons, so in their several turns there is no plenty of them 
wanting whereby the tables of the nobility and gentry 
should seem at any time furnished. But of' all these the 
production of none is more marvellous, in my mind, than that 
of the barnacle, whose place of generation we have sought 
ofttimes as far as the Orchades, whereas peradventure we 
might have found the same nearer home, and not only upon 
the coasts of Ireland, but even in our own rivers. If I 
should say how either these or some such other fowl not 
much unlike unto them have bred of late times (for their 
place of generation is not perpetual, but as opportunity 
serveth and the circumstances do minister occasion) in the 
Thames mouth, I do not think that many will believe me; 
yet such a thing hath there been seen where a kind of fowl 
had his beginning upon a short tender shrub standing near 
unto the shore, from whence, when their time came, they 
fell down, either into the salt water and lived, or upon the 
dry land and perished, as Pena the French herbarian hath 
also noted in the very end of his herbal. What I, for mine 
own part, have seen here by experience, I have already so 
touched upon in the chapter of islands, that it should be 
but time spent in vain to repeat it here again. Look there- 
fore in the description of Man (or Manaw) for more of 
these barnacles, as also in the eleventh chapter of the de- 
scription of Scotland, and I do not doubt but you shall in 
some respect be satisfied in the generation of these fowls. 
As for egrets, pawpers, and such like, they are daily brought 
unto us from beyond the sea, as if all the fowl of our coun- 
try could not suffice to satisfy our delicate appetites. 

Our tame fowl are such (for the most part) as are 
common both to us and to other countries, as cocks, hens, 
geese, ducks, peacocks of Ind, pigeons, now a hurtful fowl 
by reason of their multitudes, and number of houses daily 
erected for their increase (which the boors of the country 
call in scorn almshouses, and dens of thieves, and such like), 
whereof there is great plenty in every farmer's yard. They 
are kept there also to be sold either for ready money in the 
open markets, or else to be spent at home in good company 



354 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

amongst their neighbours without reprehension or fines. 
Neither are we so miserable in England (a thing only 
granted unto us by the especial grace of God and liberty of 
our princes) as to dine or sup with a quarter of a hen, or 
to make as great a repast with a cock's comb as they do in 
some other countries; but, if occasion serve, the whole car- 
cases of many capons, hens, pigeons, and such like do oft go 
to wrack, beside beef, mutton, veal, and lamb, all of which 
at every feast are taken for necessary dishes amongst the 
communalty of England. 

The gelding of cocks, whereby capons are made, is an an- 
cient practice brought in of old time by the Romans when 
they dwelt here in this land; but the gelding of turkeys or 
Indish peacocks is a newer device, and certainly not used 
amiss, sith the rankness of that bird is very much abated 
thereby and the strong taste of the flesh in sundry wise 
amended. If I should say that ganders grow also to be 
gelded, I suppose that some will laugh me to scorn, neither 
have I tasted at any time of such a fowl so served, yet have 
I heard it more than once to be used in the country, where 
their geese are driven to the field like herds of cattle by a 
gooseherd, a toy also no less to be marvelled at than the 
other. For, as it is rare to hear of a gelded gander, so is 
it strange to me to see or hear of geese to be led to the field 
like sheep ; yet so it is, and their gooseherd carrieth a rattle 
of paper or parchment with him when he goeth about in the 
morning to gather his goslings together, the noise whereof 
cometh no sooner to their ears than they fall to gaggling, 
and hasten to go with him. If it happen that the gates be 
not yet open, or that none of the house be stirring, it is 
ridiculous to see how they will peep under the doors, and 
never leave creaking and gaggling till they be let out unto 
him to overtake their fellows. With us, where I dwell, they 
are not kept in this sort, nor in many other places, neither are 
they kept so much for their bodies as their feathers. Some 
hold furthermore an opinion that in over rank soils their 
dung doth so qualify the batableness of the soil that their 
cattle is thereby kept from the garget, and sundry other 
diseases, although some of them come to their ends now 
and then by licking up of their feathers. I might here make 



OF WILD AND TAME FOWLS 355 

mention of other fowls produced by the industry of man, 
as between the pheasant cock and dunghill hen, or between 
the pheasant and the ringdove, the peacock and the turkey 
hen, the partridge and the pigeon; but, sith I have no more 
knowledge of these than what I have gotten by mine ear, I 
will not meddle with them. Yet Cardan, speaking of the 
second sort, doth affirm it to be a fowl of excellent beauty. 
I would likewise intreat of other fowls which we repute 
unclean, as ravens, crows, pies, choughs, rooks, kites, jays, 
ringtails, starlings, woodspikes, woodnaws, etc.; but, sith 
they abound in all countries, though peradventure most of 
all in England (by reason of our negligence), I shall not 
need to spend any time in the rehearsal of them. Neither 
are our crows and choughs cherished of purpose to catch 
up the worms that breed in our soils (as Polydor supposeth), 
sith there are no uplandish towns but have (or should have) 
nets of their own in store to catch them withal. Sundry 
acts of Parliament are likewise made for their utter de- 
struction, as also the spoil of other ravenous fowls hurtful 
to poultry, conies, lambs, and kids, whose valuation of re- 
ward to him that killeth them is after the head: a device 
brought from the Goths, who had the like ordinance for the 
destruction of their white crows, and tale made by the beck, 
which killed both lambs and pigs. The like order is taken 
with us for our vermin as with them also for the rootage out 
of their wild beasts, saving that they spared their great- 
est bears, especially the white, whose skins are by custom 
and privilege reserved to cover those planchers whereupon 
their priests do stand at mass, lest he should take some un- 
kind cold in such a long piece of work: and happy is the 
man that may provide them for him, for he shall have 
pardon enough for that so religious an act, to last if he 
will till doomsday do approach, and many thousands after. 
Nothing therefore can be more unlikely to be true than that 
these noisome creatures are nourished amongst us to devour 
our worms, which do not abound much more in England than 
elsewhere in other countries of the main. It may be that 
some look for a discourse also of our other fowls in this 
place at my hand, as nightingales, thrushes, blackbirds, ma- 
vises, ruddocks, redstarts or dunocks, larks, tivits, king- 



356 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

fishers, buntings, turtles (white or grey), linnets, bullfinches, 
goldfinches, washtails, cherrycrackers, yellowhammers, field- 
fares, etc. ; but I should then spend more time upon them 
than is convenient. Neither will I speak of our costly and 
curious aviaries daily made for the better hearing of their 
melody, and observation of their natures; but I cease also 
to go any further in these things, having (as I think) said 
enough already of these that I have named. 2 . . . 

I cannot make as yet any just report how many sorts of 
hawks are bred within this realm. Howbeit which of those 
that are usually had among us are disclosed within this land, 
I think it more easy and less difficult to set down. First of 
all, therefore, that we have the eagle common experience 
doth evidently confirm, and divers of our rocks whereon 
they breed, if speech did serve, could well declare the same. 
But the most excellent eyrie of all is not much from Chester, 
at a castle called Dinas Bren, sometime builded by Brennus, 
as our writers do remember. Certes this castle is no great 
thing, but yet a pile sometime very strong and inaccessible 
for enemies, though now all ruinous as many others are. 
It standeth upon a hard rock, in the side whereof an eagle 
breedeth every year. This also is notable in the overthrow 
of her nest (a thing oft attempted), that he which goeth 
thither must be sure of two large baskets, and so provide 
to be let down thereto, that he may sit in the one and be 
covered with the other: for otherwise the eagle would kill 
him and tear the flesh from his bones with her sharp talons, 
though his apparel were never so good. The common peo- 
ple call this fowl an erne ; but, as I am ignorant whether the 
word eagle and erne do shew any difference of sex, I mean 
between the male and the female, so we have great store of 
them. And, near to the places where they breed, the com- 
mons complain of great harm to be done by them in their 
fields; for they are able to bear a young lamb or kid unto 
their nests, therewith to feed their young and come again 
for more. I was once of the opinion that there was a 
diversity of kind between the eagle and the erne, till I per- 
ceived that our nation used the word erne in most places for 

2 _ Here ends the first chapter of " fowls," that which follows being re- 
stricted to " hawks and ravenous fowls." — W. 



OF WILD AND TAME FOWLS 357 

the eagle. We have also the lanner and the lanneret, the 
tersel and the goshawk, the musket and the sparhawk, the 
jack and the hobby, and finally some (though very few) 
marleons. And these are all the hawks that I do hear as yet 
to be bred within this island. Howbeit, as these are not 
wanting with us, so are they not very plentiful : wherefore 
such as delight in hawking do make their chief purveyance 
and provision for the same out of Danske, Germany, and 
the eastern countries, from whence we have them in great 
abundance and at excellent prices, whereas at home and 
where they be bred they are sold for almost right nought, 
and usually brought to the markets as chickens, pullets, and 
pigeons are with us, and there bought up to be eaten (as we 
do the aforesaid fowl) almost of every man. It is said 
that the sparhawk pryeth not upon the fowl in the morn- 
ing, that she taketh over even, but as loath to have double 
benefit by one seelie fowl doth let it go to make some shift for 
itself. But hereof as I stand in some doubt. So this I 
find among the writers worthy the noting: that the spar- 
hawk is enemy to young children, as is also the ape, but of 
the peacock she is marvellously afraid, and so appalled that 
all courage and stomach for a time is taken from her upon 
the sight thereof. But to proceed with the rest. Of other 
ravenous birds we have also very great plenty, as the buz- 
zard, the kite, the ringtail, dunkite, and such as often annoy 
our country dames by spoiling of their young breeds of 
chickens, ducks, and goslings, whereunto our very ravens 
and crows have learned also the way: and so much are 
ravens given to this kind of spoil that some idle and curious 
heads of set purpose have manned, reclaimed, and used them 
instead of hawks, when other could not be had. Some do 
imagine that the raven should be the vulture, and I was 
almost persuaded in times past to believe the same ; but, 
finding of late, a description of the vulture, which better 
agreeth with the form of a second kind of eagle, I freely 
surcease to be longer of that opinion: for, as it hath, after 
a sort, the shape, colour, and quantity of an eagle, so are the 
legs and feet more hairy and rough, their sides under their 
wings better covered with thick down (wherewith also their 
gorge or a part of their breast under their throats is armed, 



358 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

and not with feathers) than are the like parts of the eagle, 
and unto which portraiture there is no member of the raven 
(who is almost black of colour) that can have any resem- 
blance : we have none of them in England to my knowledge ; 
if we have, they go generally under the name of eagle or 
erne. Neither have we the pygargus or grip, wherefore 
I have no occasion to treat further. I have seen the car- 
rion crows so cunning also by their own industry of late that 
they have used to soar over great rivers (as the Thames for 
example) and, suddenly coming down, have caught a small 
fish in their feet and gone away withal without wetting of 
their wings. And even at this present the aforesaid river 
is not without some of them, a thing (in my opinion) not 
a little to be wondered at. We have also osprays, which 
breed with us in parks and woods, whereby the keepers of 
the same do reap in breeding time no small commodity; for, 
so soon almost as the young are hatched, they tie them to 
the butt ends or ground ends of sundry trees, where the old 
ones, finding them, do never cease to bring fish unto them, 
which the keepers take and eat from them, and commonly 
is such as is well fed or not of the worst sort. It hath not 
been my hap hitherto to see any of these fowl, and partly 
through mine own negligence; but I hear that it hath one 
foot like a hawk, to catch hold withal, and another resem- 
bling a goose, wherewith to swim; but, whether it be so or 
not so, I refer the further search and trial thereof unto 
some other. This nevertheless is certain, that both alive 
and dead, yea even her very oil, is a deadly terror to such 
fish as come within the wind of it. There is no cause 
whereof I should describe the cormorant amongst hawks, of 
which some be black and many pied, chiefly about the Isle 
of Ely, where they are taken for the night raven, except I 
should call him a water hawk. But, sith such dealing is not 
convenient, let us now see what may be said of our veno- 
mous worms, and how many kinds we have of them within 
our realm and country. 8 

3 This on " venomous beasts " will be found included in the " savage 
beasts " of the following. 



CHAPTER XIV 

OF SAVAGE BEASTS AND VERMIN 

C1577, Book III., Chapters 7 and 12; 1587, Book III., Chapters 
4 and 6.] 

IT IS none of the least blessings wherewith God hath 
endued this island that it is void of noisome beasts, as 
lions, bears, tigers, pardes, wolves, and such like, by- 
means whereof our countrymen may travel in safety, and 
our herds and flocks remain for the most part abroad in the 
field without any herdman or keeper. 

This is chiefly spoken of the south and south-west parts 
of the island. For, whereas we that dwell on this side of 
the Tweed may safely boast of our security in this behalf, 
yet cannot the Scots do the like in every point wherein their 
kingdom, sith they have grievous wolves and cruel foxes, 
beside some others of like disposition continually conversant 
among them, to the general hindrance of their husbandmen, 
and no small damage unto the inhabitants of those quarters. 
The happy and fortunate want of these beasts in England 
is universally ascribed to the politic government of King 
Edgar. 1 ... 

Of foxes we have some, but no great store, and also 
badgers in our sandy and light grounds, where woods, furze, 
broom, and plenty of shrubs are to shroud them in when 
they be from their burrows, and thereunto warrens of 
conies at hand to feed upon at will. Otherwise in clay, 
which we call the cledgy mould, we seldom hear of any, 
because the moisture and the toughness of the soil is such 
as will not suffer them to draw and make their burrows 
deep. Certes, if I may freely say what I think, I suppose 

1 Here follows an account of the extermination of wolves, and a reference 
to lions and wild bulls rampant in Scotland of old. — W. 

(W) HC XXXV 



360 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

that these two kinds (I mean foxes and badgers) are rather 
preserved by gentlemen to hunt and have pastime withal at 
their own pleasures than otherwise suffered to live as not 
able to be destroyed because of their great numbers. For 
such is the scantity of them here in England, in comparison 
of the plenty that is to be seen in other countries, and so 
earnestly are the inhabitants bent to root them out, that, 
except it had been to bear thus with the recreations of their 
superiors in this behalf, it could not otherwise have been 
chosen but that they should have been utterly destroyed by 
many years agone. 

I might here intreat largely of other vermin, as the pole- 
cat, the miniver, the weasel, stote, fulmart, squirrel, fitchew, 
and such like, which Cardan includeth under the word 
Mustela: also of the otter, and likewise of the beaver, whose 
hinder feet and tail only are supposed to be fish. Certes the 
tail of this beast is like unto a thin whetstone, as the body 
unto a monstrous rat: as the beast also itself is of such force 
in the teeth that it will gnaw a hole through a thick plank, 
or shere through a double billet in a night; it loveth also 
the stillest rivers, and it is given to them by nature to go by 
flocks unto the woods at hand, where they gather sticks 
wherewith to build their nests, wherein their bodies lie dry 
above the water, although they so provide most commonly 
that their tails may hang within the same. It is also re- 
ported that their said tails are a delicate dish, and their 
stones of such medicinal force that (as Vertomannus saith) 
four men smelling unto them each after other did bleed at 
the nose through their attractive force, proceeding from a 
vehement savour wherewith they are endued. There is 
greatest plenty of them in Persia, chiefly about Balascham, 
from whence they and their dried cods are brought into all 
quarters of the world, though not without some forgery by 
such as provide them. And of all these here remembered, 
as the first sorts are plentiful in every wood and hedge- 
row, so these latter, especially the otter (for, to say the 
truth, we have not many beavers, but only in the Teisie in 
Wales) is not wanting or to seek in many, but most, streams 
and rivers of this isle ; but it shall suffice in this sort to 
have named them, as I do finally the martern, a beast of 



OF SAVAGE BEASTS AND VERMIN 361 

the chase, although for number I worthily doubt whether 
that of our beavers or marterns may be thought to be the 
less. 

Other pernicious beasts we have not, except you repute 
the great plenty of red and fallow deer whose colours are 
oft garled white and black, all white or all black, and store 
of conies amongst the hurtful sort. Which although that of 
themselves they are not offensive at all, yet their great 
numbers are thought to be very prejudicial, and therefore 
justly reproved of many, as are in like sort our huge flocks 
of sheep, whereon the greatest part of our soil is employed 
almost in every place, and yet our mutton, wool, and felles 
never the better cheap. The young males which our fallow 
deer do bring forth are commonly named according to their 
several ages : for the first year it is a fawn, the second a 
pricket, the third a sorel, the fourth a soare, the fifth a 
buck of the first head, not bearing the name of a buck till 
he be five years old: and from henceforth his age is com- 
monly known by his head or horns. Howbeit this notice of 
his years is not so certain but that the best woodman may 
now and then be deceived in that account: for in some 
grounds a buck of the first head will be as well headed as 
another in a high rowtie soil will be in the fourth. It is 
also much to be marvelled at that, whereas they do yearly 
mew and cast their horns, yet in fighting they never break 
off where they do grife or mew. Furthermore, in examin- 
ing the condition of our red deer, I find that the young male 
is called in the first year a calf, in the second a broket, the 
third a spay, the fourth a staggon or stag, the fifth a great 
stag, the sixth a hart, and so forth unto his death. And 
with him in degree of venerie are accounted the hare, boar, 
and wolf. The fallow deer, as bucks and does, are nourished 
in parks, and conies in warrens and burrows. As for hares, 
they run at their own adventure, except some gentleman or 
other (for his pleasure) do make an enclosure for them. 
Of these also the stag is accounted for the most noble game, 
the fallow deer is the next, then the roe, whereof we have 
indifferent store, and last of all the hare, not the least in 
estimation, because the hunting of that seely beast is mother 
to all the terms, blasts, and artificial devices that hunters 



362 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

do use. All which (notwithstanding our custom) are pas- 
times more meet for ladies and gentlewomen to exercise 
(whatsoever Franciscus Patritius saith to the contrary in 
his Institution of a Prince) than for men of courage to 
follow, whose hunting should practise their arms in tasting 
of their manhood, and dealing with such beasts as eftsoons 
will turn again and offer them the hardest, rather than their 
horses' feet which many times may carry them with dis- 
honour from the field. 2 . . . 

If I should go about to make any long discourse of 
venomous beasts or worms bred in England, I should at- 
tempt more than occasion itself would readily offer, sith we 
have very few worms, but no beasts at all, that are thought 
by their natural qualities to be either venomous or hurtful. 
First of all, therefore, we have the adder (in our old Saxon 
tongue called an atter), which some men do not rashly take 
to be the viper. Certes, if it be so, then is not the viper 
author of the death of her 3 parents, as some histories affirm, 
and thereto Encelius, a late writer, in his De re Metallica, lib. 
3, cap. 38, where he maketh mention of a she adder which 
he saw in Sala, whose womb (as he saith) was eaten out 
after a like fashion, her young ones lying by her in the 
sunshine, as if they had been earthworms. Nevertheless, 
as he nameth them viperas, so he calleth the male echis, 
and the female echidna, concluding in the end that echis is 
the same serpent which his countrymen to this day call 
ein atter, as I have also noted before out of a Saxon dic- 
tionary. For my part I am persuaded that the slaughter 
of their parents is either not true at all, or not always (al- 
though I doubt not but that nature hath right well provided 
to inhibit their superfluous increase by some means or other), 
and so much the rather am I led hereunto for that I gather 
by Nicander that of all venomous worms the viper only 
bringeth out her young alive, and therefore is called in 
Latin vipera qnasivivipara, but of her own death he doth 
not (to my remembrance) say anything. It is testified also 
by other in other words, and to the like sense, that "Echis 

a Here follows a discourse on ancient boar-hunting, exalting it above 
the degenerate sports of the day. This ends the chapter on " savage 
bcfists.'* — ^V» 

3 Galenus, De Theriaca ad Pisonem; Pliny, lib. 10, cap. 62. — H. 



OF SAVAGE BEASTS AND VERMIN 363 

id est viper a sola ex serpentibus non ova sed animalia parit."* 
And it may well be, for I remember that I have read in 
Philostratus, De vita Appollonii, how he saw a viper licking 
her young. I did see an adder once myself that lay (as I 
thought) sleeping on a molehill, out of whose mouth came 
eleven young adders of twelve or thirteen inches in length 
apiece, which played to and fro in the grass one with an- 
other, till some of them espied me. So soon therefore as 
they saw my face they ran again into the mouth of their 
dam, whom I killed, and then found each of them shrouded 
in a distinct cell or pannicle in her belly, much like unto 
a soft white jelly, which maketh me to be of the opinion 
that our adder is the viper indeed. The colour of their 
skin is for the most part like rusty iron or iron grey, but 
such as be very old resemble a ruddy blue; and as once in 
the year (to wit, in April or about the begininng of May) 
they cast their old skins (whereby as it is thought their 
age reneweth), so their stinging bringeth death without 
present remedy be at hand, the wounded never ceasing to 
swell, neither the venom to work till the skin of the one 
break, and the other ascend upward to the heart, where it 
finisheth the natural effect, except the juice of dragons (in 
Latin called dracunculus minor) be speedily ministered and 
drunk in strong ale, or else some other medicine taken of 
like force that may countervail and overcome the venom 
of the same. The length of them is most commonly two 
feet, and somewhat more, but seldom doth it extend into two 
feet six inches, except it be in some rare and monstrous 
one, whereas our snakes are much longer, and seen some- 
times to surmount a yard, or three feet, although their 
poison be nothing so grievous and deadly as the others. 
Our adders lie in winter under stones, as Aristotle also saith 
of the viper (lib. 8, cap. 15), and in holes of the earth, 
rotten stubs of trees, and amongst the dead leaves ; but in 
the heat of the summer they come abroad, and lie either 
round in heaps or at length upon some hillock, or elsewhere 
in the grass. They are found only in our woodland coun- 
tries and highest grounds, where sometimes (though seldom) 

* " The adder or viper alone among serpents brings forth not eggs but 
living creatures." 



364 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

a speckled stone called echites, in Dutch ein atter stein, is 
gotten out of their dried carcases, which divers report to 
be good against their poison. 5 As for our snakes, which 
in Latin are properly named ungues, they commonly are 
seen in moors, fens, loam, walls, and low bottoms. 

As we have great store of toads where adders com- 
monly are found, so do frogs abound where snakes do keep 
their residence. We have also the slow-worm, which is 
black and greyish of colour, and somewhat shorter than an 
adder. I was at the killing once of one of them, and there- 
by perceived that she was not so called of any want of 
nimble motion, but rather of the contrary. Nevertheless 
we have a blind-worm, to be found under logs, in woods 
and timber that hath lam long in a place, which some also 
do call (and upon better ground) by the name of slow- 
worms, and they are known easily by their more or less 
variety of striped colours, drawn long-ways from their 
heads, their whole bodies little exceeding a foot in length, 
and yet is their venom deadly. This also is not to be 
omitted; and now and then in our fenny countries other 
kinds of serpents are found of greater quantity than either 
our adder or our snake, but, as these are not ordinary and 
oft to be seen, so I mean not to intreat of them among our 
common annoyances. Neither have we the scorpion, a 
plague of God sent not long since into Italy, and whose 
poison (as Apollodorus saith) is white, neither the taran- 
tula or Neapolitan spider, whose poison bringeth death, 
except music be at hand. Wherefore I suppose our country 
to be the more happy (I mean in part) for that it is void 
of these two grievous annoyances wherewith other nations 
are plagued. 

We have also efts both of the land and water, and like- 
wise the noisome swifts, whereof to say any more it would 
be but loss of time, sith they are all well known, and no 
region to my knowledge found to be void of many of them. 
As for flies (sith it shall not be amiss a little to touch them 
also), we have none that can do hurt or hindrance naturally 
unto any: for whether they be cut-waisted or whole-bodied, 
they are void of poison and all venomous inclination. The 

6 Salust, cap. 40; Pliny, lib. 37, cap. 2. — H. 



OF SAVAGE BEASTS AND VERMIN 365 

cut or girt waisted (for so I English the word insecta) are 
the hornets, wasps, bees, and such like, whereof we have 
great store, and of which an opinion is conceived that the 
first do breed of the corruption of dead horses, the second 
of pears and apples corrupted, and the last of kine and oxen: 
which may be true, especially the first and latter in some 
parts of the beast, and not their whole substances, as also 
in the second, sith we have never wasps but when our fruit 
beginneth to wax ripe. Indeed Virgil and others speak of 
a generation of bees by killing or smothering a bruised 
bullock or calf and laying his bowels or his flesh wrapped 
up in his hide in a close house for a certain season ; but 
how true it is, hitherto I have not tried. Yet sure I am 
of this, that no one living creature corrupteth without the 
production of another, as we may see by ourselves, whose 
flesh doth alter into lice, and also in sheep for excessive 
numbers of flesh flies, if they be suffered to lie unbnried or 
uneaten by the dogs and swine, who often and happily 
present such needless generations. 

As concerning bees, I think it good to remember that, 
whereas some ancient writers affirm it to be a commodity 
wanting in our island, it is now found to be nothing so. 
In old times peradventure we had none indeed; but in my 
days there is such plenty of them in manner everywhere 
that in some uplandish towns there are one hundred or two 
hundred hives of them, although the said hives are not so 
huge as those of the east country, but far less, and not able 
to contain above one bushel of corn or five pecks at the 
most. Pliny (a man that of set purpose delighteth to write 
of wonders), speaking of honey, noteth that in the north 
regions the hives in his time were of such quantity that 
some one comb contained eight foot in length, and yet (as 
it should seem) he speaketh not of the greatest. For in 
Podolia, which is now subject to the King of Poland, 
their hives are so great, and combs so abundant, that huge 
boars, overturning and falling into them, are drowned in 
the honey before they can recover and find the means to 
come out. 

Our honey also is taken and reputed to be the best, be- 
cause it is harder, better wrought, and cleanlier vesselled 



366 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

up, than that which cometh from beyond the sea, where 
they stamp and strain their combs, bees, and young blow- 
ings altogether into the stuff, as I have been informed. In 
use also of medicine our physicians and apothecaries eschew 
the foreign, especially that of Spain and Pontus, by reason 
of a venomous quality naturally planted in the same, as some 
write, and choose the home-made: not only by reason of 
our soil (which hath no less plenty of wild thyme growing 
therein than in Sicilia and about Athens, and maketh the 
best stuff) as also for that it breedeth (being gotten in 
harvest time) less choler, and which is oftentimes (as I have 
seen by experience) so white as sugar, and corned as if it 
were salt. Our hives are made commonly of rye straw and 
wattled about with bramble quarters; but some make the 
same of wicker, and cast them over with clay. We cherish 
none in trees, but set our hives somewhere on the warmest 
side of the house, providing that they may stand dry and 
without danger both of the mouse and the moth. This 
furthermore is to be noted, that whereas in vessels of oil 
that which is nearest the top is counted the finest and of 
wine that in the middest, so of honey the best which is 
heaviest and moistest is always next the bottom, and ever- 
more casteth and driveth his dregs upward toward the very 
top, contrary to the nature of other liquid substances, whose 
grounds and leeze do generally settle downwards. And 
thus much as by the way of our bees and English honey. 

As for the whole-bodied, as the cantharides, and such 
venomous creatures of the same kind, to be abundantly 
found in other countries, we hear not of them : yet have we 
beetles, horseflies, turdbugs or dors (called in Latin scar- 
abei), the locust or the grasshopper (which to me do seem 
to be one thing, as I will anon declare), and such like, 
whereof let other intreat that make an exercise in catching 
of flies, but a far greater sport in offering them to spiders, 
as did Domitian sometime, and another prince yet living 
who delighted so much to see the jolly combats betwixt a 
stout fly and an old spider that divers men have had great re- 
wards given them for their painful provision of flies made 
only for this purpose. Some parasites also, in the time of the 
aforesaid emperor (when they were disposed to laugh at 



OF SAVAGE BEASTS AND VERMIN 367 

his folly, and yet would seem in appearance to gratify his 
fantastical head with some shew of dutiful demeanour), 
could devise to set their lord on work by letting a flesh fly 
privily into his chamber, which he forthwith would eagerly 
have hunted (all other business set apart) and never ceased 
till he had caught her into his fingers, wherewith arose the 
proverb, "Ne musca quidem," uttered first by Vibius Pris- 
cus, who being asked whether anybody was with Domitian, 
answered " Ne musca quidem," whereby he noted his folly. 
There are some cockscombs here and there in England, 
learning it abroad as men transregionate, which make ac- 
count also of this pastime, as of a notable matter, telling 
what a sight is seen between them, if either of them be 
lusty and courageous in his kind. One also hath made a 
book of the spider and the fly, wherein he dealeth so pro- 
foundly, and beyond all measure of skill that neither he 
himself that made it nor any one that readeth it can reach 
unto the meaning thereof. But if those jolly fellows, in- 
stead of the straw that they must thrust into the fly's tail 
(a great injury no doubt to such a noble champion), would 
bestow the cost to set a fool's cap upon their own heads, 
then might they with more security and less reprehension 
behold these notable battles. 

Now, as concerning the locust, I am led by divers of my 
country, who (as they say) were either in Germany, Italy, 
or Pannonia, 1542, when those nations were greatly an- 
noyed with that kind of fly, and affirm very constantly that 
they saw none other creature than the grasshopper during 
the time of that annoyance, which was said to come to them 
from the Meotides. In most of our translations also of 
the Bible the word locusta is Englished a grasshopper, and 
thereunto (Leviticus xi.) it is reputed among the clean food, 
otherwise John the Baptist would never have lived with them 
in the wilderness. In Barbary, Numidia, and sundry other 
places of Africa, as they have been, 6 so are they eaten to 
this day powdered in barrels, and therefore the people of 
those parts are called Acedophagi : nevertheless they shorten 
the life of the eaters, by the production at the last of an 
irksome and filthy disease. In India they are three foot 

8 See Diodorus Siculus. — H. 



368 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

long, in Ethiopia much shorter, but in England seldom 
above an inch. As for the cricket, called in Latin cicada, 
he hath some likelihood, but not very great, with the grass- 
hopper, and therefore he is not to be brought in as an um- 
pire in this case. Finally, Matthiolus and so many as de- 
scribe the locust do set down none other form than that of 
our grasshopper, which maketh me so much the more to rest 
upon my former imagination, which is that the locust and 
the grasshopper are one. 



CHAPTER XV 

OF OUR ENGLISH DOGS AND THEIR QUALITIES 
[i577i Book III., Chapter 13; 1587, Book III., Chapter 7.] 

THERE is no country that may (as I take it) compare 
with ours in number, excellency, and diversity of 
dogs. 
The first sort therefore he divideth either into such as 
rouse the beast, and continue the chase, or springeth the bird, 
and bewrayeth her flight by pursuit. And as these are com- 
monly called spaniels, so the other are named hounds, where- 
of he maketh eight sorts, of which the foremost excelleth in 
perfect smelling, the second in quick espying, the third in 
swiftness and quickness, the fourth in smelling and nimble- 
ness, etc., and the last in subtlety and deceitfulness. These 
(saith Strabo) are most apt for game, and called Sagaces by 
a general name, not only because of their skill in hunting, but 
also for that they know their own and the names of their 
fellows most exactly. For if the hunter see any one to 
follow skilfully, and with likelihood of good success, he 
biddeth the rest to hark and follow such a dog, and they 
eftsoones obey so soon as they hear his name. The first 
kind of these are often called harriers, whose game is the 
fox, the hare, the wolf (if we had any), hart, buck, badger, 
otter, polecat, lopstart, weasel, conie, etc. : the second 
height a terrier and it hunteth the badger and grey only: 
the third a bloodhound, whose office is to follow the fierce, 
and now and then to pursue a thief or beast by his dry foot : 
the fourth height a gazehound, who hunteth by the eye: the 
fifth a greyhound, cherished for his strength and swiftness 
and stature, commended by Bratius in his De Venatione, and 
not unremembered by Hercules Stroza in a like treatise, and 
above all other those of Britain, where he saith : " Magna 

369 



370 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

spectandi mole Britanni ; " also by Nemesianus, libro Cyne- 
geticon, where he saith : " Divisa Britannia mittit Veloces 
nostrique orbis venatibus aptos," of which sort also some 
be smooth, of sundry colours, and some shake-haired: the 
sixth a liemer, that excelleth in smelling and swift-running: 
the seventh a tumbler: and the eighth a thief whose offices 
(I mean of the latter two) incline only to deceit, wherein 
they are oft so skilful that few men would think so mis- 
chievous a wit to remain in such silly creatures. Having 
made this enumeration of dogs which are apt for the chase 
and hunting, he cometh next to such as serve the falcons in 
their time, whereof he maketh also two sorts. One that 
findeth his game on the land, another that putteth up such 
fowl as keepeth in the water: and of these this is commonly 
most usual for the net or train, the other for the hawk, as 
he doth shew at large. Of the first he saith that they have 
no peculiar names assigned to them severally but each of 
them is called after the bird which by natural appointment 
he is alloted to hunt or serve, for which consideration some 
be named dogs for the pheasant, some for the falcon, and 
some for the partridge. Howbeit the common name for 
all is spaniel (saith he), and thereupon alluded as if these 
kinds of dogs had been brought hither out of Spain. In 
like sort we have of water spaniels in their kind. The third 
sort of dogs of the gentle kind is the spaniel gentle, or com- 
forter, or (as the common term is) the fistinghound, and 
tl.ose are called Melitei, of the Island Malta, from whence 
they were brought hither. These are little and pretty, 
proper and fine, and sought out far and near to falsify the 
nice delicacy of dainty dames, and wanton women's wills, 
instruments of folly to play and dally withal, in trifling away 
the treasure of time, to withdraw their minds from more 
commendable exercises, and to content their corrupt con- 
cupiscences with vain disport — a silly poor shift to shun 
their irksome Idleness. The Sybaritical puppies the smaller 
they be (and thereto if they have a hole in the fore parts 
of their heads) the better they are accepted, the more pleas- 
ure also they provoke, as meet playfellows for mincing 
mistresses to bear in their bosoms, to keep company withal 
in their chambers, to succour with sleep in bed, and nourish 



OF OUR ENGLISH DOGS 371 

with meat at board, to lie in their laps, and lick their lips 
as they lie (like young Dianas) in their waggons and 
coaches. And good reason it should be so, for coarseness 
with fineness hath no fellowship, but featness with neatness 
hath neighbourhood enough. That plausible proverb there- 
fore versified sometime upon a tyrant — namely, that he 
loved his sow better than his son — may well be applied to 
some of this kind of people, who delight more in their dogs, 
that are deprived of all possibility of reason, than they do in 
children that are capable of wisdom and judgment. Yea, 
they oft feed them of the best where the poor man's child 
at their doors can hardly come by the worst. But the former 
abuse peradventure reigneth where there hath been long 
want of issue, else where barrenness is the best blossom of 
beauty: or, finally, where poor men's children for want of 
their own issue are not ready to be had. It is thought of 
some that it is very wholesome for a weak stomach to bear 
such a dog in the bosom, as it is for him that hath the palsy 
to feel the daily smell and savour of a fox. But how truly 
this is affirmed let the learned judge : only it shall suffice 
for Doctor Caius to have said thus much of spaniels and 
dogs of the gentle kind. 

Dogs of the homely kind are either shepherd's curs or 
mastiffs. The first are so common that it needeth me not 
to speak of them. Their use also is so well known in keep- 
ing the herd together (either when they grass or go before 
the shepherd) that it should be but in vain to spend any 
time about them. Wherefore I will leave this cur unto his 
own kind, and go in hand with the mastiff, tie dog, or band 
dog, so called because many of them are tied up in chains 
and strong bonds in the daytime, for doing hurt abroad, 
which is a huge dog, stubborn, ugly, eager, burthenous of 
body (and therefore of but little swiftness), terrible and 
fearful to behold, and oftentimes more fierce and fell than 
any Archadian or Corsican cur. Our Englishmen, to the 
extent that these dogs may be more cruel and fierce, assist 
nature with some art, use, and custom. For although this 
kind of dog be capable of courage, violent, valiant, stout, 
and bold : yet will they increase these their stomachs by 
teaching them to bait the bear, the bull, the lion, and other 



372 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

such like cruel and bloody beasts (either brought over or 
kept up at home for the same purpose), without any collar 
to defend their throats, and oftentimes there too they train 
them up in fighting and wrestling with a man. (having for 
the safeguard of his life either a pikestaff, club, sword, privy 
coat), whereby they become the more fierce and cruel unto 
strangers. The Caspians make so much account sometimes 
of such great dogs that every able man would nourish 
sundry of them in his house of set purpose, to the end they 
should devour their carcases after their deaths thinking 
the dog's bellies to be the most honourable sepulchres. The 
common people also followed the same rate, and therefore 
there were tie dogs kept up by public ordinance, to devour 
them after their deaths: by means whereof these beasts 
became the more eager, and with great difficulty after a 
while restrained from falling upon the living. But whither 
am I digressed? In returning therefore to our own, I say 
that of mastiffs, some bark only with fierce and open mouth 
but will not bite; but the crudest do either not bark at all 
or bite before they bark, and therefore are more to be 
feared than any of the other. They take also their name 
of the word "mase" and "thief" (or "master-thief" if you 
will), because they often stound and put such persons to 
their shifts in towns and villages, and are the principal 
causes of their apprehension and taking. The force which 
is in them surmounteth all belief, and the fast hold which 
they take with their teeth exceedeth all credit: for three 
of them against a bear, four against a lion, are sufficient 
to try mastries with them. King Henry the Seventh, as the 
report goeth, commanded all such curs to be hanged, because 
they durst presume to fight against the lion, who is their 
king and sovereign. The like he did with an excellent fal- 
con, as some say, because he feared not hand-to-hand match 
with an eagle, willing his falconers in his own presence to 
pluck off his head after he was taken down, saying that it 
was not meet for any subject to offer such wrong unto his 
lord and superior, wherein he had a further meaning. But 
if King Henry the Seventh had lived in our time what 
would he have done to our English mastiff, which alone and 
without any help at all pulled down first a huge bear, then 



OF OUR ENGLISH DOGS 373 

a pard, and last of all a lion, each after other before the 
French king in one day, when the Lord Buckhurst was 
ambassador unto him, and whereof if I should write the 
circumstances, that is, how he took his- advantage being let 
loose unto them, and finally drave them into such exceeding 
fear, that they were all glad to run away when he was taken 
from them, I should take much pains, and yet reap but 
small credit: wherefore it shall suffice to have said thus much 
thereof. Some of our mastiffs will rage only in the night, 
some are to be tied up both day and night. Such also as 
are suffered to go loose about the house and yard are so 
gentle in the daytime that children may ride on their backs 
and play with them at their pleasures. Divers of them like- 
wise are of such jealousy over their master and whosoever 
of his household, that if a stranger do embrace or touch any 
of them, they will fall fiercely upon them, unto their extreme 
mischief if their fury be not prevented. Such a one was 
the dog of Nichomedes, king sometime of Bithynia, who 
seeing Consigne the queen to embrace and kiss her husband 
as they walked together in a garden, did tear her all to 
pieces, maugre his resistance and the present aid of such as 
attended on them. Some of them moreover will suffer a 
stranger to come in and walk about the house or yard 
where he listeth, without giving over to follow him: but if 
he put forth his hand to touch anything, then will they fly 
upon them and kill them if they may. I had one myself 
once, which would not suffer any man to bring in his 
weapon further than my gate: neither those that were of 
my house to be touched in his presence. Or if I had beaten 
any of my children, he would gently have essayed to catch 
the rod in his teeth and take it out of my hand or else 
pluck down their clothes to save them from the stripes : which 
in my opinion is not unworthy to be noted. 

The last sort of dogs consisteth of the currish kind meet 
for many toys, of which the whappet or prick-eared cur is 
one. Some men call them warners, because they are good 
for nothing else but to bark and give warning when any- 
body doth stir or lie in wait about the house in the night 
season. Certes it is impossible to describe these curs in any 
order, because they have no one kind proper unto them- 



374 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

selves, but are a confused company mixed of all the rest. 
The second sort of them are called turnspits, whose office 
is not unknown to any. And as these are only reserved for 
this purpose, so in many places our mastiffs (beside the use 
which tinkers have of them in carrying their heavy budgets) 
are made to draw water in great wheels out of deep wells, 
going much like unto those which are framed for our turn- 
spits, as is to be seen at Roiston, where this feat is often 
practised. Besides these also we have sholts or curs daily 
brought out of Ireland, and made much of among us, be- 
cause of their sauciness and quarrelling. Moreover they 
bite very sore, and love candles exceedingly, as do the men 
and women of their country; but I may say no more of them, 
because they are not bred with us. Yet this will I make 
report of by the way, for pastime's sake, that when a great 
man of those parts came of late into one of our ships which 
went thither for fish, to see the form and fashion of the 
same, his wife apparelled in fine sables, abiding on the deck 
whilst her husband was under the hatches with the mariners, 
espied a pound or two of candles hanging on the mast, and 
being loath to stand there idle alone, she fell to and eat 
them up every one, supposing herself to have been at a 
jolly banquet, and shewing very pleasant gesture when her 
husband came up again unto her. 

The last kind of toyish curs are named dancers, and those 
being of a mongrel sort also, are taught and exercised to 
dance in measure at the musical sound of an instrument, as 
at the just stroke of a drum, sweet accent of the citharne, 
and pleasant harmony of the harp, shewing many tricks by 
the gesture of their bodies: is to stand bolt upright, to lie 
flat on the ground, to turn round as a ring holding their 
tails in their teeth, to saw and beg for meat, to take a man's 
cap from his head, and sundry such properties, which they 
learn of their idle roguish masters, whose instruments they 
are to gather gain, as old apes clothed in motley and coloured 
short-waisted jackets are for the like vagabonds, who seek 
no better living than that which they may get by fond 
pastime and idleness. I might here intreat of other dogs, 
as of those which are bred between a bitch and a wolf, also 
between a bitch and a fox, or a bear and a mastiff. But as 



OF OUR ENGLISH DOGS 375 

we utterly want the first sort, except they be brought unto 
us : so it happeneth sometimes that the other two are engen- 
dered and seen at home amongst us. But all the rest here- 
tofore remembered in this chapter there is none more ugly 
and odious in sight, cruel and fierce in deed, nor untractable 
in hand, than that which is begotten between the bear and 
the bandog. For whatsoever he catcheth hold of he taketh 
it so fast that a man may sooner tear and rend his body 
in sunder than get open his mouth to separate his chaps. 
Certes he regardeth neither wolf, bear, nor lion, and there- 
fore may well be compared with those two dogs which were 
sent to Alexander out of India (and procreated as it is 
thought between a mastiff and a male tiger, as be those 
also of Hircania), or to them that are bred in Archadia, 
where copulation is oft seen between lions and bitches, as 
the lion is in France (as I said) between she wolves and 
dogs, whereof let this suffice, sith the further tractation of 
them doth not concern my purpose, more than the confutation 
of Cardan's talk, De subt., lib. 10, who saith that after many 
generations dogs do become wolves, and contrariwise, which 
if it were true, then could not England be without many 
wolves: but nature hath set a difference between them, not 
only in outward form, but also inward disposition of their 
bones, whereof it is impossible that his assertion can be 
sound. 



(x) 



CHAPTER XVI 

OF THE NAVY OF ENGLAND 
[1577, Book II., Chapter 13; 1587, Book II., Chapter 17.] 

THERE is nothing that hath brought me into more ad- 
miration of the power and force of antiquity than 
their diligence and care had of their navies: wherein, 
whether I consider their speedy building, or great number of 
ships which some one kingdom or region possessed at one 
instant, it giveth me still occasion either to suspect the 
history, or to think that in our times we come very far 
behind them. 1 . . . 

I must needs confess therefore that the ancient vessels 
far exceeded ours for capacity, nevertheless if you regard 
the form, and the assurance from peril of the sea, and there- 
withal the strength and nimbleness of such as are made in 
our time, you shall easily find that ours are of more value 
than theirs: for as the greatest vessel is not always the 
fastest, so that of most huge capacity is not always the 
aptest to shift and brook the seas: as might be seen by the 
Great Henry, the hugest vessel that ever England framed 
in our times. Neither were the ships of old like unto ours 
in mould and manner of building above the water (for of 
low galleys in our seas we make small account) nor so full 
of ease within, since time hath engendered more skill in 
the wrights, and brought all things to more perfection than 
they had in the beginning. And now to come unto our 
purpose at the first intended. 

The navy of England may be divided into three sorts, of 
which the one serveth for the wars, the other for burden, and 
the third for fishermen which get their living by fishing on 
the sea. How many of the first order are maintained within 

1 Here follows an account of Roman and Carthaginian galleys which 
" did not only match, but far exceed " in capacity our ships and galleys 
of 1587.— W. 

376 



OF THE NAVY OF ENGLAND 377 

the realm it passeth my cunning to express; yet, since it 
may be parted into the navy royal and common fleet, I 
think good to speak of those that belong unto the prince, 
and so much the rather, for that their number is certain 
and well known to very many. Certainly there is no prince 
in Europe that hath a more beautiful or gallant sort of ships 
than the queen's majesty of England at this present, and 
those generally are of such exceeding force that two of 
them, being well appointed and furnished as they ought, 
will not let to encounter with three or four of those of 
other countries, and either bowge them or put them to 
flight, if they may not bring them home. 

Neither are the moulds of any foreign barks so con- 
veniently made, to brook so well one sea as another lying 
upon the shore of any part of the continent, as those of 
England. And therefore the common report that strangers 
make of our ships amongst themselves is daily confirmed to 
be true, which is, that for strength, assurance, nimbleness, 
and swiftness of sailing, there are no vessels in the world 
to be compared with ours. And all these are committed to 
the regiment and safe custody of the admiral, who is so 
called (as some imagine) of the Greek word almiras, a 
captain on the sea ; for so saith Zonaras in Basilio Macedone 
and Basilio Porphyriogenito, though others fetch it from 
ad mare, the Latin words, another sort from Amyras, the 
Saracen magistrate, or from some French derivation: but 
these things are not for this place, and therefore I pass them 
over. The queen's highness hath at this present (which is the 
four-and-twentieth of her reign) already made and fur- 
nished, to the number of four or five-and-twenty great ships, 
which lie for the most part in Gillingham Road, beside three 
galleys, of whose particular names and furniture (so far 
forth as I can come by them) it shall not be amiss to make 
report at this time. 

The names of so many ships belonging to her majesty as I 
could come by at this present. 

The Bonadventure. White Bear. 

Elizabeth Jonas. 2 Philip and Mary. 

2 A name devised by her grace in remembrance of her own deliverance 
from the fury of her enemies, from which in one respect she was no less 



378 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

Triumph. Aid. 

Bull. Handmaid. 

Tiger. 3 Dreadnought. 

Antelope. Swallow. 

Hope. Genet. 

Lion. Bark of Bullen. 

Victory. Achates. 

Mary Rose. Falcon. 

Foresight. George. 

Swift sute. Revenge. 

It is said that as kings and princes have in the young days 
of the world, and long since, framed themselves to erect 
every year a city in some one place or other of their kingdom 
(and no small wonder that Sardanapalus should begin and 
finish two, to wit, Anchialus and Tarsus, in one day), so 
her grace doth yearly build one ship or other to the better 
defence of her frontiers from the enemy. But, as of this 
report I have no assured certainty, so it shall suffice to have 
said so much of these things; yet this I think worthy fur- 
ther to be added, that if they should all be driven to service 
at one instance (which God forbid) she should have a 
power by sea of about nine or ten thousand men, which were 
a notable company, beside the supply of other vessels ap- 
pertaining to her subjects to furnish up her voyage. 

Beside these, her grace hath other in hand also, of whom 
hereafter, as their turns do come about, I will not let to 
leave some further remembrance. She hath likewise three 
notable galleys: the Speedwell, the Try Right, and the 
Black Galley, with the sight whereof, and the rest of the 
navy royal, it is incredible to say how greatly her grace 
is delighted: and not without great cause (I say) since 
by their means her coasts are kept in quiet, and sundry 
foreign enemies put back, which otherwise would invade us. 
The number of those that serve for burden with the other, 
whereof I have made mention already and whose use is daily 
seen, as occasion serveth in time of the wars, is to me utterly 
unknown. Yet if the report of one record be anything at 
all to be credited, there are one hundred and thirty-five ships 
that exceed five hundred ton; topmen, under one hundred 

miraculously preserved than was the prophet Jonas from the belly of the 
whale. — H. 

3 So called of her exceeding nimbleness in sailing and swiftness of 
course. — H. 



OF THE NAVY OF ENGLAND 379 

and above forty, six hundred and fifty-six; hoys, one hun- 
dred; but of hulks, catches, fisherboats, and crayers, it lieth 
not in me to deliver the just account, since they are hard 
to come by. Of these also there are some of the queen's 
majesty's subjects that have two or three; some, four or 
six; and (as I heard of late) one man, whose name I suppress 
for modesty's sake, hath been known not long since to have 
had sixteen or seventeen, and employed them wholly to the 
wafting in and out of our merchants, whereby he hath 
reaped no small commodity and gain. I might take occasion 
to tell of the notable and difficult voyages made into strange 
countries by Englishmen, and of their daily success there ; 
but as these things are nothing incident to my purpose, so 
I surcease to speak of them. Only this will I add, to the 
end all men shall understand somewhat of the great masses 
of treasure daily employed upon our navy, how there are 
few of those ships, of the first and second sort, that, being 
apparelled and made ready to sail, are not worth one thou- 
sand pounds, or three thousand ducats at the least, if they 
should presently be sold. What shall we think then of the 
greater, but especially of the navy royal, of which some one 
vessel is worth two of the other, as the shipwrights have 
often told me? It is possible that some covetous person, 
hearing this report, will either not credit it at all, or suppose 
money so employed to be nothing profitable to the queen's 
coffers: as a good husband said once when he heard there 
should be a provision made for armour, wishing the queen's 
money to be rather laid out to some speedier return of gain 
unto her grace, "because the realm (saith he) is in case good 
enough," and so peradventure he thought. But if, as by store 
of armour for the defence of the country, he had likewise 
understanded that the good keeping of the sea is the safe- 
guard of our land, he would have altered his censure, and 
soon given over his judgment. For in times past, when our 
nation made small account of navigation, how soon did the 
Romans, then the Saxons, and last of all the Danes, invade 
this island? whose cruelty in the end enforced our country- 
men, as it were even against their wills, to provide for ships 
from other places, and build at home of their own, whereby 
their enemies were oftentimes distressed. But most of all 



S80 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

were the Normans therein to be commended. For, in a 
short process of time after the conquest of this island, and 
good consideration had for the well-keeping of the same, 
they supposed nothing more commodious for the defence of 
the country than the maintenance of a strong navy, 
which they speedily provided, maintained, and thereby 
reaped in the end their wished security, wherewith before 
their times this island was never acquainted. Before the 
coming of the Romans I do not read that we had any ships 
at all, except a few made of wicker and covered with buffalo 
hides, like unto which there are some to be seen at this 
present in Scotland (as I hear), although there be a little 
(I wot not well what) difference between them. Of the 
same also Solinus speaketh, so far as I remember: never- 
theless it may be gathered from his words how the upper 
parts of them above the water only were framed of the said 
wickers, and that the Britons did use to fast all the whiles 
they went to the sea in them ; but whether it were done for 
policy or superstition, as yet I do not read. 

In the beginning of the Saxons' regiment we had some 
ships also; but as their number and mould was little, and 
nothing to the purpose, so Egbert was the first prince that 
ever thoroughly began to know this necessity of a navy and 
use the service thereof in the defence of his country. After 
him also other princes, as Alfred, Edgar, Ethelred, etc., en- 
deavoured more and more to store themselves at the full 
with ships of all quantities, but chiefly Edgar, for he pro- 
vided a navy of 1600 alias 3600 sail, which he divided into 
four parts, and sent them to abide upon four sundry coasts 
of the land, to keep the same from pirates. Next unto him 
(and worthy to be remembered) is Ethelred, who made a 
law that every man that hold 310 hidelands should find a 
ship furnished to serve him in the wars. Howbeit, as I said 
before, when all their navy was at the greatest, it was not 
comparable for force and sure building to that which after- 
ward the Normans provided, neither that of the Normans 
anything like to the same that is to be seen now in these 
our days. For the journeys also of our ships, you shall 
ttnderstand that a well-builded vessel will run or sail com- 
monly three hundred leagues or nine hundred miles in a 



OF THE NAVY OF ENGLAND 381 

week, or peradventure some will go 2200 leagues in six 
weeks and a half. And surely, if their lading be ready 
against they come thither, there be of them that will be 
here, at the West Indies, and home again in twelve or 
thirteen weeks from Colchester, although the said Indies be 
eight hundred leagues from the cape or point of Cornwall, 
as I have been informed. This also I understand by report 
of some travellers, that, if any of our vessels happen to 
make a voyage to Hispaniola or New Spain (called in time 
past Quinquegia and Haiti), which lieth between the north 
tropic and the Equator, after they have once touched at the 
Canaries (which are eight days' sailing or two hundred and 
fifty leagues from St. Lucas de Barameda, in Spain) they 
will be there in thirty or forty days, and home again in 
Cornwall in other eight weeks, which is a goodly matter, 
beside the safety and quietness in the passage, but more 
of this elsewhere. 



CHAPTER XVII 

OF SUNDRY KINDS OF PUNISHMENT APPOINTED FOR 
OFFENDERS 

[i577, Book III., Chapter 6; 1587, Book II., Chapter 11.] 

IN cases of felony, manslaughter, robbery, murder, rape, 
piracy, and such capital crimes as are not reputed for 
treason or hurt of the estate, our sentence pronounced 
upon the offender is, to hang till he be dead. For of 
other punishments used in other countries we have no 
knowledge or use ; and yet so few grievous crimes committed 
with us as elsewhere in the world. To use torment also 
or question by pain and torture in these common cases 
with us is greatly abhorred, since we are found always to 
be such as despise death, and yet abhor to be tormented, 
choosing rather frankly to open our minds than to yield 
our bodies unto such servile haulings and tearings as are 
used in other countries. And this is one cause wherefore 
our condemned persons do go so cheerfully to their deaths; 
for our nation is free, stout, haughty, prodigal of life and 
blood, as Sir Thomas Smith saith, lib. 2, cap. 25, De 
Republica, and therefore cannot in any wise digest to be 
used as villains and slaves, in suffering continually beat- 
ing, servitude, and servile torments. No, our gaolers are 
guilty of felony, by an old law of the land, if they torment 
any prisoner committed to their custody for the revealing 
of his accomplices. 

The greatest and most grievous punishment used in Eng- 
land for such as offend against the State is drawing from 
the prison to the place of execution upon an hurdle or sled, 
where they are hanged till they be half dead, and then 
taken down, and quartered alive; after that, their members 
and bowels are cut from their bodies, and thrown into a 

382 



OF KINDS OP PUNISHMENT 383 

fire, provided near hand and within their own sight, even 
for the same purpose. 

Sometimes, if the trespass be not the more heinous, 
they are suffered to hang till they be quite dead. And 
whensoever any of the nobility are convicted of high trea- 
son by their peers, that is to say, equals (for an inquest of 
yeomen passeth not upon them, but only of the lords of 
parliament), this manner of their death is converted into 
the loss of their heads only, notwithstanding that the sen- 
tence do run after the former order. In trial of cases 
concerning treason, felony, or any other grievous crime 
not confessed, the party accused doth yield, if he be a noble 
man, to be tried by an inquest (as I have said) and his 
peers; if a gentleman, by gentlemen; and an inferior, by 
God and by the country, to wit, the yeomanry (for combat 
or battle is not greatly in use), and, being condemned of 
felony, manslaughter, etc., he is eftsoons hanged by the 
neck till he be dead, and then cut down and buried. But 
if he be convicted of wilful murder, done either upon 
pretended malice or in any notable robbery, he is either 
hanged alive in chains near the place where the fact was 
committed (or else upon compassion taken, first strangled 
with a rope), and so continueth till his bones consume to 
nothing. We have use neither of the wheel nor of the 
bar, as in other countries ; but, when wilful manslaughter is 
perpetrated, beside hanging, the offender hath his right 
hand commonly stricken off before or near unto the place 
where the act was done, after which he is led forth to 
the place of execution, and there put to death according to 
the law. 

The word felon is derived of the Saxon words fell and one, 
that is to say, an evil and wicked one, a one of untameable 
nature and lewdness not to be suffered for fear of evil 
example and the corruption of others. In like sort in the word 
felony are many grievous crimes contained, as breach of 
prison (Ann. i of Edward the Second), disfigurers of the 
prince's liege people (Ann. 5 of Henry the Fourth), hunt- 
ing by night with painted faces and visors (Ann. 1 of 
Henry the Seventh), rape, or stealing of women and maidens 
(Ann. 3 of Henry Eight), conspiracies against the person 



384 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

of the prince (Ann. 3 of Henry the Seventh), embezzling 
of goods committed by the master to the servant above 
the value of forty shillings (Ann. 17 of Henry the Eighth), 
carrying of horses or mares into Scotland (Ann. 23 of 
Henry Eight), sodomy and buggery (Ann. 25 of Henry 
the Eighth), conjuring, forgery, witchcraft, and digging 
up of crosses (Ann. 33 of Henry Eight), prophesying upon 
arms, cognisances, names, and badges (Ann. 33 of Henry 
Eight), casting of slanderous bills (Ann. 37, Henry Eight), 
wilful killing by poison (Ann. 1 of Edward the Sixth), 
departure of a soldier from the field (Ann. 2 of Edward 
the Sixth), diminution of coin, all offences within case 
of premunire, embezzling of records, goods taken from 
dead men by their servants, stealing of whatsoever cattle, 
robbing by the high way, upon the sea, or of dwelling 
houses, letting out of ponds, cutting of purses, stealing 
of deer by night, counterfeits of coin, evidences charters, 
and writings, and divers other needless to be remembered. If 
a woman poison her husband, she is burned alive; if the 
servant kill his master, he is to be executed for petty 
treason; he that poisoneth a man is to be boiled to death 
in water or lead, although the party die not of the practice; 
in cases of murder, all the accessories are to suffer pains 
of death accordingly. Perjury is punished by the pillory, 
burning in the forehead with the letter P, the rewalting of 
the trees growing upon the grounds of the offenders, and 
loss of all his movables. Many trespasses also are pun- 
ished by the cutting off of one or both ears from the head 
of the offender, as the utterance of seditious words against 
the magistrates, fraymakers, petty robbers, etc. Rogues are 
burned through the ears; carriers of sheep out of the land, 
by the loss of their hands ; such as kill by poison are either 
boiled or scalded to death in lead or seething water. Heretics 
are burned quick; harlots and their mates, by carting, duck- 
ing, and doing of open penance in sheets in churches and 
market steeds, are often put to rebuke. Howbeit, as this is 
counted with some either as no punishment at all to speak of, 
or but little regarded of the offenders, so I would with adultery 
and fornication to have some sharper law. For what great 
smart is it to be turned out of hot sheet into a cold, or after 



OF KINDS OF PUNISHMENT 385 

a little washing in the water to be let loose again unto 
their former trades? Howbeit the dragging of some of 
them over the Thames between Lambeth and Westminster 
at the tail of a boat is a punishment that most terrifieth 
them which are condemned thereto ; but this is inflicted upon 
them by none other than the knight marshall, and that 
within the compass of his jurisdiction and limits only. 
Canutus was the first that gave authority to the clergy to 
punish whoredom, who at that time found fault with the 
former laws as being too severe in this behalf. For, before 
the time of the said Canutus, the adulterer forfeited all 
his goods to the king and his body to be at his pleasure; 
and the adulteress was to lose her eyes or nose, or both if 
the case were more than common: whereby it appears of 
what estimation marriage was amongst them, since the 
breakers of that holy estate were so grievously rewarded. 
But afterward the clergy dealt more favourably with them, 
shooting rather at the punishments of such priests and 
clerks as were married than the reformation of adultery 
and fornication, wherein you shall find no example that any 
severity was shewed except upon such lay men as had 
defiled their nuns. As in theft therefore, so in adultery 
and whoredom, I would wish th° parties trespassing to be 
made bond or slaves unto those that received the injury, 
to sell and give where they listed, or to be condemned to 
the galleys: for that punishment would prove more bitter 
to them than half-an-hour's hanging, or than standing in 
a sheet, though the weather be never so cold. 

Manslaughter in time past was punished by the purse, 
wherein the quantity or quality of the punishment was rated 
after the state and calling of the party killed : so that one was 
valued sometime at 1200, another at 600, or 200 shillings. 
And by a statute made under Henry the First, a citizen of 
London at 100, whereof elsewhere I have spoken more at 
large. Such as kill themselves are buried in the field with 
a stake driven through their bodies. 

Witches are hanged, or sometimes burned; but thieves 
are hanged (as I said before) generally on the gibbet or 
gallows, saving in Halifax, where they are beheaded after a 
strange manner, and whereof I find this report. There is and 



386 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

has been of ancient time a law, or rather a custom, at 
Halifax, that whosoever does commit any felony, and is 
taken with the same, or confesses the fact upon examination, 
if it be valued by four constables to amount to the sum of 
thirteenpence-halfpenny, he is forthwith beheaded upon one 
of the next market days (which fall usually upon the 
Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays), or else upon the same 
day that he is so convicted, if market be then holden. The 
engine wherewith the execution is done is a square block 
of wood of the length of four feet and a half, which does 
ride up and down in a slot, rabbet, or regall, between two 
pieces of timber, that are framed and set upright, of five 
yards in height. In the nether end of the sliding block 
is an axe, keyed or fastened with an iron into the wood, 
which being drawn up to the top of the frame is there 
fastened by a wooden pin (with a notch made into the same, 
after the manner of a Samson's post), unto the midst of 
which pin also there is a long rope fastened that cometh 
down among the people, so that, when the offender hath 
made his confession and hath laid his neck over the nether- 
most block, every man there present doth either take hold 
of the rope (or putteth forth his arm so near to the same 
as he can get, in token that he is willing to see true justice 
executed), and, pulling out the pin in this manner, the 
head-block wherein the axe is fastened doth fall down with 
such a violence that, if the neck of the transgressor were 
as big as that of a bull, it should be cut in sunder at a stroke 
and roll from the body by a huge distance. If it be so that 
the offender be apprehended for an ox, oxen, sheep, kine, 
horse, or any such cattle, the self beast or other of the 
same kind shall have the end of the rope tied somewhere 
unto them, so that they, being driven, do draw out the pin, 
whereby the offender is executed. Thus much of Halifax 
law, which I set down only to shew the custom of that 
country in this behalf. 

Rogues and vagabonds are often stocked and whipped; 
scolds are ducked upon cucking-stools in the water. Such 
felons as stand mute, and speak not at their arraignment, 
are pressed to death by huge weights laid upon a board, 
that lieth over their breast, and a sharp stone under their 



OF KINDS OF PUNISHMENT 387 

backs ; and these commonly held their peace, thereby to save 
their goods unto their wives and children, which, if they 
were condemned, should be confiscated to the prince. Thieves 
that are saved by their books and clergy, for the first of- 
fence, if they have stolen nothing else but oxen, sheep, 
money, or such like, which be no open robberies, as by 
the highway side, or assailing of any man's house in the 
night, without putting him in fear of his life, or breaking 
up his walls or doors, are burned in the left hand, upon 
the brawn of the thumb, with a hot iron, so that, if they 
be apprehended again, that mark betrayeth them to have 
been arraigned of felony before, whereby they are sure 
at that time to have no mercy. I do not read that this 
custom of saving by the book is used anywhere else than 
in England; neither do I find (after much diligent enquiry) 
what Saxon prince ordained that law. Howbeit this I 
generally gather thereof, that it was devised to train the 
inhabitants of this land to the love of learning, which 
before contemned letters and all good knowledge, as men 
only giving themselves to husbandry and the wars : the like 
whereof I read to have been amongst the Goths and Vandals, 
who for a time would not suffer even their princes to be 
learned, for weakening of their courage, nor any learned 
men to remain in the council house, but by open procla- 
mation would command them to avoid whensoever anything 
touching the state of the land was to be consulted upon. 
Pirates and robbers by sea are condemned in the Court of 
the Admiralty, and hanged on the shore at low-water mark, 
where they are left till three tides have overwashed them. 
Finally, such as having walls and banks near unto the sea, 
and do suffer the same to decay (after convenient admoni- 
tion), whereby the water entereth and drowneth up the 
country, are by a certain ancient custom apprehended, con- 
demned, and staked in the breach, where they remain for 
ever as parcel of the foundation of the new wall that is 
to be made upon them, as I have heard reported. 

And thus much in part of the administration of justice 
used in our country, wherein, notwithstanding that we do not 
often hear of horrible, merciless, and wilful murders (such I 
mean as are not seldom seen in the countries of the main), 



388 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

yet now and then some manslaughter and bloody robberies are 
perpetrated and committed, contrary to the laws, which be 
severely punished, and in such wise as I have before 
reported. Certes there is no greater mischief done in 
England than by robberies, the first by young shifting 
gentlemen, which oftentimes do bear more port than they 
are able to maintain. Secondly by serving-men, whose 
wages cannot suffice so much as to find them breeches; 
wherefore they are now and then constrained either to keep 
highways, and break into the wealthy men's houses with 
the first sort, or else to walk up and down in gentlemen's 
and rich farmers' pastures, there to see and view which 
horses feed best, whereby they many times get some- 
thing, although with hard adventure: it hath been known 
by their confession at the gallows that some one such chap- 
man hath had forty, fifty, or sixty stolen horses at pasture 
here and there abroad in the country at a time, which 
they have sold at fairs and markets far off, they themselves 
in the mean season being taken about home for honest 
yeomen, and very wealthy drovers, till their dealings have 
been betrayed. It is not long since one of this company 
was apprehended, who was before time reputed for a very 
honest and wealthy townsman; he uttered also more horses 
than any of his trade, because he sold a reasonable penny- 
worth and was a fairspoken man. It was his custom likewise 
to say, if any man hucked hard with him about the price of a 
gelding, "So God help me, gentlemen (or sir), either he 
did cost me so much, or else, by Jesus, I stole him ! " Which 
talk was plain enough ; and yet such was his estimation that 
each believed the first part of his tale, and made no account 
of the latter, which was truer indeed. 

Our third annoyers of the commonwealth are rogues, 
which do very great mischief in all places where they become. 
For, whereas the rich only suffer injury by the first two, 
these spare neither rich nor poor; but, whether it be great 
gain or small, all is fish that cometh to net with them. And 
yet, I say, both they and the rest are trussed up apace. For 
there is not one year commonly wherein three hundred or 
four hundred of them are not devoured and eaten up by 
the gallows in one place and other. It appeareth by Cardan 



OF KINDS OF PUNISHMENT 389 

(who writeth it upon the report of the bishop of Lexovia), 
in the geniture of King Edward the Sixth, how Henry the 
Eighth, executing his laws very severely against such idle 
persons, I mean great thieves, petty thieves, and rogues, 
did hang up threescore and twelve thousand of them in his 
time. He seemed for a while greatly to have terrified the 
rest; but since his death the number of them is so increased, 
yea, although we have had no wars, which are a great 
occasion of their breed (for it is the custom of the more 
idle sort, having once served, or but seen the other side of 
the sea under colour of service, to shake hand with labour 
for ever, thinking it a disgrace for himself to return unto 
his former trade), that, except some better order be taken, or 
the laws already made be better executed, such as dwell in 
uplandish towns and little villages shall live but in small 
safety and rest. For the better apprehension also of thieves 
and mankillers, there is an old law in England very well 
provided whereby it is ordered that, if he that is robbed 
(or any man) complain and give warning of slaughter or 
murder committed, the constable of the village whereunto 
he cometh and crieth for succour is to raise the parish about 
him, and to search woods, groves, and all suspected houses 
and places, where the trespasser may be, or is supposed to 
lurk; and not finding him there, he is to give warning unto 
the next constable, and so one constable, after search made, 
to advertise another from parish to parish, till they come to 
the same where the offender is harboured and found. It 
is also provided that, if any parish in this business do not 
her duty, but suffereth the thief (for the avoiding of trouble 
sake) in carrying him to the gaol, if he should be appre- 
hended, or other letting of their work to escape, the same 
parish is not only to make fine to the king, but also the 
same, with the whole hundred wherein it standeth, to repay 
the party robbed his damages, and leave his estate harmless. 
Certainly this is a good law; howbeit I have known by my 
own experience felons being taken to have escaped out of 
the stocks, being rescued by other for want of watch and 
guard, that thieves have been let pass, because the covetous 
and greedy parishioners would neither take the pains nor be 
at the charge, to carry them to prison, if it were far off ; that 



390 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

when hue and cry have been made even to the faces of 
some constables, they have said : " God restore your loss ! 
I have other business at this time." And by such means the 
meaning of many a good law is left unexecuted, malefactors 
emboldened, and many a poor man turned out of that which 
he hath sweat and taken great pains toward the mainten- 
ance of himself and his poor children and family. 



CHAPTER XVIII 

OF UNIVERSITIES 
[1577, Book II., Chapter 6; 1587, Book II., Chapter 3.] 

THERE have been heretofore, and at sundry times, 
divers famous universities in this island, and those 
even in my days not altogether forgotten, as one at 
Bangor, erected by Lucius, and afterward converted into 
a monastery, not by Congellus (as some write), but by 
Pelagius the monk. The second at Caerleon-upon-Usk, near 
to the place where the river doth fall into the Severn, 
founded by King Arthur. The third at Thetford, wherein 
were six hundred students, in the time of one Rond, some- 
time king of that region. The fourth at Stamford, suppressed 
by Augustine the monk. And likewise other in other places, 
as Salisbury, Eridon or Cricklade, Lachlade, Reading, and 
Northampton; albeit that the two last rehearsed were not 
authorised, but only arose to that name by the departure of 
the students from Oxford in time of civil dissension unto 
the said towns, where also they continued but for a little 
season. When that of Salisbury began I cannot tell; but 
that it flourished most under Henry the Third and Edward 
the First I find good testimony by the writers, as also by the 
discord which fell, 1278, between the chancellor for the 
scholars there on the one part and William the archdeacon 
on the other, whereof you shall see more in the chronology 
here following. In my time there are three noble universities 
in England — to wit, one at Oxford, the second at Cambridge, 
and the third in London; of which the first two are the 
most famous, I mean Cambridge and Oxford, for that in 
them the use of the tongues, philosophy, and the liberal 
sciences, besides the profound studies of the civil law, 
physic, and theology, are daily taught and had: whereas in 
the latter the laws of the realm are only read and learned 

(y) hc xxxv 



392 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

by such as give their minds unto the knowledge of the 
same. In the first there are not only divers goodly houses 
builded four square for the most part of hard freestone or 
brick, with great numbers of lodgings and chambers in the 
same for students, after a sumptuous sort, through the ex- 
ceeding liberality of kings, queens, bishops, noblemen and 
ladies of the land; but also large livings and great revenues 
bestowed upon them (the like whereof is not to be seen in 
any other region, as Peter Martyr did oft affirm) to the 
maintenance only of such convenient numbers of poor men's 
sons as the several stipends bestowed upon the said houses 
are able to support. 1 . . . 

Of these two, that of Oxford (which lieth west and by 
north from London) standeth most pleasantly, being en- 
vironed in manner round about with woods on the hills aloft, 
and goodly rivers in the bottoms and valleys beneath, whose 
courses would breed no small commodity to that city and 
country about if such impediments were removed as greatly 
annoy the same and hinder the carriage which might be 
made thither also from London. That of Cambridge is dis- 
tant from London about forty and six miles north and by east, 
and standeth very well, saving that it is somewhat near unto 
the fens, whereby the wholesomeness of the air is not a 
little corrupted. It is excellently well served with all kinds 
of provisions, but especially of fresh water fish and wild 
fowl, by reason of the river that passeth thereby; and 
thereto the Isle of Ely, which is so near at hand. Only 
wood is the chief want to such as study there, wherefore 
this kind of provision is brought them either from Essex 
and other places thereabouts, as is also their coal, or other- 
wise the necessity thereof is supplied with gall (a bastard 
kind of mirtus as I take it) and seacoal, whereof they have 
great plenty led thither by the Grant. Moreover it hath 
not such store of meadow ground as may suffice for the 
ordinary expenses of the town and university, wherefore the 
inhabitants are enforced in like sort to provide their hay 
from other villages about, which minister the same unto 
them in very great abundance. 

1 Here follows a paragraph about the legendary foundation of the uni- 
versities. — W. 



OF UNIVERSITIES 393 

Oxford is supposed to contain in longitude eighteen de- 
grees and eight and twenty minutes, and in latitude one and 
fifty degrees and fifty minutes : whereas that of Cambridge 
standing more northerly, hath twenty degrees, and twenty 
minutes in longitude, and thereunto fifty and two degrees 
and fifteen minutes in latitude, as by exact supputation is 
easy to be found. 

The colleges of Oxford, for curious workmanship and 
private commodities, are much more stately, magnificent, 
and commodious than those of Cambridge: and thereunto 
the streets of the town for the most part are more large and 
comely. But for uniformity of building, orderly compaction, 
and politic regiment, the town of Cambridge, as the newer 
workmanship, 2 exceeds that of Oxford (which otherwise is, 
and hath been, the greater of the two) by many a fold (as 
I guess), although I know divers that are of the contrary 
opinion. This also is certain, that whatsoever the difference 
be in building of the town streets, the townsmen of both 
are glad when they may match and annoy the students, by 
encroaching upon their liberties, and keep them bare by 
extreme sale of their wares, whereby many of them become 
rich for a time, but afterward fall again into poverty, be- 
cause that goods evil gotten do seldom long endure. 3 . . . 

In each of these universities also is likewise a church 
dedicated to the Virgin Mary, wherein once in the year — to 
wit, in July — the scholars are holden, and in which such as 
have been called to any degree in the year precedent do 
there receive the accomplishment of the same, in solemn and 
sumptuous manner. In Oxford this solemnity is called an 
Act, but in Cambridge they use the French word Commence- 
ment; and such resort is made yearly unto the same from 
all parts of the land by the friends of those who do proceed 
that all the town is hardly able to receive and lodge those 
guests. When and by whom the churches aforesaid were 
built I have elsewhere made relation. That of Oxford also 
was repaired in the time of Edward the Fourth and Henry 
the Seventh, when Doctor Fitz James, a great helper in that 
work, was warden of Merton College; but ere long, after it 

2 Cambridge burned not long since.— H. 

3 Here follows an account of Oxford and Cambridge castles, and the legend 
of the building of Osney Abbey by Robert and Edith D'Oyley. — W. 



394 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

was finished, one tempest in a night so defaced the same that 
it left few pinnacles standing about the church and steeple, 
which since that time have never been repaired. There 
were sometime four and twenty parish churches in the town 
and suburbs; but now there are scarcely sixteen. There 
have been also 1200 burgesses, of which 400 dwelt in the 
suburbs ; and so many students were there in the time of 
Henry the Third that he allowed them twenty miles com- 
pass about the town for their provision of victuals. 

The common schools of Cambridge also are far more beau- 
tiful than those of Oxford, only the Divinity School of 
Oxford excepted, which for fine and excellent workman- 
ship cometh next the mould of the King's Chapel in Cam- 
bridge, than the which two, with the Chapel that King 
Henry the Seventh did build at Westminster, there are not 
(in my opinion) made of lime and stone three more notable 
piles within the compass of Europe. 

In all the other things there is so great equality between 
these two universities as no man can imagine how to set 
down any greater, so that they seem to be the body of one 
well-ordered commonwealth, only divided by distance of place 
and not in friendly consent and orders. In speaking there- 
fore of the one I cannot but describe the other; and in com- 
mendation of the first I cannot but extol the latter; and, so 
much the rather, for that they are both so dear unto me as 
that I cannot readily tell unto whether of them I owe the 
most good-will. Would to God my knowledge were such as 
that neither of them might have cause to be ashamed of their 
pupil, or my power so great that I might worthily requite 
them both for those manifold kindnesses that I have received 
of them ! But to leave these things, and proceed with other 
more convenient to my purpose. 

The manner to live in these universities is not as in some 
other of foreign countries we see daily to happen, where 
the students are enforced for want of such houses to dwell 
in common inns, and taverns, without all order or discipline. 
But in these our colleges we live in such exact order, and 
under so precise rules of government, as that the famous 
learned man Erasmus of Rotterdam, being here among us 
fifty years passed, did not let to compare the trades in 



OF UNIVERSITIES 395 

living of students in these two places, even with the very 
rules and orders of the ancient monks, affirming moreover, 
in flat words, our orders to be such as not only came near 
unto, but rather far exceeded, all the monastical institutions 
that ever were devised. 

In most of our colleges there are also great numbers of 
students, of which many are found by the revenues of the 
houses and other by the purveyances and help of their rich 
friends, whereby in some one college you shall have two 
hundred scholars, in others an hundred and fifty, in divers 
a hundred and forty, and in the rest less numbers, as the 
capacity of the said houses is able to receive : so that at this 
present, of one sort and other, there are about three thou- 
sand students nourished in them both (as by a late survey 
it manifestly appeared). They were erected by their found- 
ers at the first only for poor men's sons, whose parents were 
not able to bring them up unto learning; but now they have 
the least benefit of them, by reason the rich do so encroach 
upon them. And so far has this inconvenience spread 
itself that it is in my time a hard matter for a poor man's 
child to come by a fellowship (though he be never so good 
a scholar and worthy of that room). Such packing also is 
used at elections that not he which best deserveth, but he 
that has most friends, though he be the worst scholar, is 
always surest to speed, which will turn in the end to the 
overthrow of learning. That some gentlemen also whose 
friends have been in times past benefactors to certain of 
those houses do intrude into the disposition of their estates 
without all respect of order or statutes devised by the 
founders, only thereby to place whom they think good (and 
not without some hope of gain), the case is too too evident: 
and their attempt would soon take place if their superiors 
did not provide to bridle their endeavours. In some gram- 
mar schools likewise which send scholars to these universi- 
ties, it is lamentable to see what bribery is used; for, ere 
the scholar can be preferred, such bribage is made that poor 
men's children are commonly shut out, and the richer sort 
received (who in time past thought it dishonour to live as it 
were upon alms), and yet, being placed, most of them 
study little other than histories, tables, dice, and trifles, as 



396 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

men that make not the living by their study the end of 
their purposes, which is a lamentable hearing. Beside this, 
being for the most part either gentlemen or rich men's sons, 
they often bring the universities into much slander. For, 
standing upon their reputation and liberty, they ruffle and 
roist it out, exceeding in apparel, and banting riotous com- 
pany (which draweth them from their books unto another 
trade), and for excuse, when they are charged with breach 
of all good order, think it sufficient to say that they be gen- 
tlemen, which grieveth many not a little. But to proceed 
with the rest. 

Every one of these colleges have in like manner their 
professors or readers of the tongues and several sciences, as 
they call them, which daily trade up the youth there abid- 
ing privately in their halls, to the end they may be able after- 
ward (when their turn cometh about, which is after twelve 
terms) to shew themselves abroad, by going from thence 
into the common schools and public disputations (as it were 
"In aream") there to try their skill, and declare how they 
have profited since their coming thither. 

Moreover, in the public schools of both the universities, 
there are found at the prince's charge (and that very 
largely) fine professors and readers, that is to say, of di- 
vinity, of the civil law, physic, the Hebrew and the Greek 
tongues. And for the other lectures, as of philosophy, 
logic, rhetoric, and the quadri vials (although the latter, I 
mean arithmetic, music, geometry, and astronomy, and with 
them all skill in the perspectives, are now smally regarded 
in either of them), the universities themselves do allow 
competent stipends to such as read the same, whereby they 
are sufficiently provided for, touching the maintenance of 
their estates, and no less encouraged to be diligent in their 
functions. 

These professors in like sort have all the rule of dispu- 
tations and other school exercises which are daily used in 
common schools severally assigned to each of them, and 
such of their hearers as by their skill shewed in the said 
disputations are thought to have attained to any convenient 
ripeness of knowledge according to the custom of other 
universities (although not in like order) are permitted 



OF UNIVERSITIES 397 

solemnly to take their deserved degrees of school in the 
same science and faculty wherein they have spent their 
travel. From that time forward also they use such differ- 
ence in apparel as becometh their callings, tendeth unto 
gravity, and maketh them known to be called to some 
countenance. 

The first degree is that of the general sophisters, from 
whence, when they have learned more sufficiently the rules 
of logic, rhetoric, and obtained thereto competent skill in 
philosophy, and in the mathematicals, they ascend higher 
unto the estate of bachelors of art, after four years of their 
entrance into their sophistry. From thence also, giving 
their minds to more perfect knowledge in some or all the 
other liberal sciences and the tongues, they rise at the last 
(to wit, after other three or four years) to be called mas- 
ters of art, each of them being at that time reputed for a 
doctor in his faculty, if he profess but one of the said 
sciences (besides philosophy), or for his general skill, if he 
be exercised in them all. After this they are permitted to 
choose what other of the higher studies them liketh to 
follow, whether it be divinity, law, or physic, so that, being 
once masters of art, the next degree, if they follow physic, 
is the doctorship belonging to that profession; and like- 
wise in the study of the law, if they bend their minds to the 
knowledge of the same. But, if they mean to go forward 
with divinity, this is the order used in that profession. 
First, after they have necessarily proceeded masters of art, 
they preach one sermon to the people in English, and an- 
other to the university in Latin. They answer all comers 
also in their own persons unto two several questions of 
divinity in the open schools at one time for the space of 
two hours, and afterward reply twice against some other 
man upon a like number and on two several dates in the 
same place, which being done with commendation, he re- 
ceiveth the fourth degree, that is, bachelor of divinity, but 
not before he has been master of arts by the space of seven 
years, according to their statutes. 

The next, and last degree of all, is the doctorship, after 
other three years, for the which he must once again per- 
form all such exercises and acts as are before remembered; 



398 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

and then is he reputed able to govern and teach others, and 
likewise taken for a doctor. I have read that John of 
Beverley was the first doctor that ever was in Oxford, as 
Beda was in Cambridge. But I suppose herein that the 
word " doctor " is not so strictly to be taken in this report 
as it is now used, since every teacher is in Latin called by 
that name, as also such in the primitive church as kept 
schools of catechists, wherein they were trained up in the 
rudiments and principles of religion, either before they were 
admitted unto baptism or any office in the Church. 

Thus we see that from our entrance into the university 
unto the last degree received is commonly eighteen or 
twenty years, in which time, if a student has not obtained 
sufficient learning thereby to serve his own turn and bene- 
fit his commonwealth, let him never look by tarrying longer 
to come by any more. For after this time, and forty years 
of age, the most part of students do commonly give over 
their wonted diligence, and live like drone bees on the fat 
of colleges, withholding better wits from the possession of 
their places, and yet doing little good in their own voca- 
tion and calling. I could rehearse a number (if I listed) 
of this sort, as well in one university as the other. But 
this shall suffice instead of a large report, that long con- 
tinuance in those places is either a sign of lack of friends, 
or of learning, or of good and upright life, as Bishop Fox 4 
sometime noted, who thought it sacrilege for a man to tarry 
any longer at Oxford than he had a desire to profit. 

A man may (if he will) begin his study with the law, or 
physic (of which Jthis giveth wealth, the other honour), so 
soon as he cometh to the university, if his knowledge in the 
tongues and ripeness of judgment serve therefor: which if 
he do, then his first degree is bachelor of law, or physic ; 
and for the same he must perform such acts in his own 
science as the bachelors or doctors of divinity do for their 
parts, the only sermons except, which belong not to his call- 
ing. Finally, this will I say, that the professors of either 
of those faculties come to such perfection in both univer- 
sities as the best students beyond the sea do in their own 
or elsewhere. One thing only I mislike in them, and that 

4 This Fox builded Corpus Christi College, in Oxford. — H. 



OF UNIVERSITIES 399 

is their usual going into Italy, from whence very few with- 
out special grace do return good men whatsoever they pre- 
tend of conference or practice, chiefly the physicians B who 
under pretence of seeking of foreign simples do oftentimes 
learn the framing of such compositions as were better un- 
known than practised, as I have heard often alleged, and 
therefore it is most true that Doctor Turner said : " Italy 
is not to be seen without a guide, that is, without special 
grace given from God, because of the licentious and cor- 
rupt behaviour of the people." 

There is moreover in every house a master or provost, 
who has under him a president and certain censors or deans, 
appointed to look to the behaviour and manners of the stu- 
dents there, whom they punish very severely if they make 
any default, according to the quantity and quality of their 
trespass. And these are the usual names of governors in 
Cambridge. Howbeit in Oxford the heads of houses are 
now and then called presidents in respect of such bishops 
as are their visitors and founders. In each of these also 
they have one or more treasurers, whom they call bursarios 
or bursars, beside other officers whose charge is to see unto 
the welfare and maintenance of these houses. Over each 
university also there is a several chancellor, whose offices 
are perpetual, howbeit their substitutes, whom we call vice- 
chancellors, are changed every year, as are also the proctors, 
taskers, masters of the streets, and other officers, for the 
better maintenance of their policy and estate. 

And thus much at this time of our two universities, in each 
of which I have received such degree as they have vouch- 
safed — rather of their favour than my desert — to yield and 
bestow upon me, and unto whose students I wish one thing, 
the execution whereof cannot be prejudicial to any that 
meaneth well, as I am resolutely persuaded, and the case 
now standeth in these our days. When any benefice there- 
for becometh void it were good that the patron did signify 
the vacation thereof to the bishop, and the bishop the act of 
the patron to one of the universities, with request that the 
vice-chancellor with his assistants might provide some such 
able man to succeed in the place as should by their judg- 

5 So much also may be inferred of lawyers. — H. 



400 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

ment be meet to take the charge upon him. Certainly if 
this order were taken, then should the church be provided 
of good pastors, by whom God should be glorified, the uni- 
versities better stored, the simoniacal practices of a number 
of patrons utterly abolished, and the people better trained 
to live in obedience toward God and their prince, which 
were a happier estate. 

To these two also we may in like sort add the third, which 
is at London (serving only for such as study the laws of the 
realm) where there are sundry famous houses, of which 
three are called by the name of Inns of the Court, the rest 
of the Chancery, and all built before time for the furtherance 
and commodity of such as apply their minds to our common 
laws. Out of these also come many scholars of great fame, 
whereof the most part have heretofore been brought up in 
one of the aforesaid universities, and prove such commonly 
as in process of time rise up (only through their profound 
"skill) to great honour in the commonwealth of England. 
They have also degrees of learning among themselves, and 
rules pf discipline, under which they live most civilly in their 
houses, albeit that the younger of them abroad in the streets 
are scarcely able to be bridled by any good order at all. 
Certainly this error was wont also greatly to reign in Cam- 
bridge and Oxford, between the students and the burgesses; 
but, as it is well left in these two places, so in foreign coun- 
tries it cannot yet be suppressed. 

Besides these universities, also there are great number 
of grammar schools throughout the realm, and those very 
liberally endowed, for the better relief of poor scholars, so 
that there are not many corporate towns now under the 
Queen's dominion that have not one grammar school at the 
least, with a sufficient living for a master and usher ap- 
pointed to the same. 

There are in like manner divers collegiate churches, as 
Windsor, Winchester, Eton, Westminster (in which I was 
some time an unprofitable grammarian under the reverend 
father Master Nowell, now dean of Paul's), and in those a 
great number of poor scholars, daily maintained by the 
liberality of the founders, with meat, books, and apparel, 
from whence, after they have been well entered in the 



OF UNIVERSITIES 401 

knowledge of the Latin and Greek tongues, and rules of 
versifying (the trial whereof is made by certain apposers 
yearly appointed to examine them), they are sent to certain 
special houses in each university, where they are received 
and trained up in the points of higher knowledge in their 
private halls, till they be adjudged meet to shew their faces 
in the schools as I have said already. 

And thus much have I thought good to note of our uni- 
versities, and likewise of colleges in the same, whose names 
I will also set down here, with those of their founders, to 
the end the zeal which they bare unto learning may appear, 
and their remembrance never perish from among the wise 
and learned. 



Of the Colleges of Cambridge with their Founders 

Years of 

the Founda- Colleges Founders 

tion 

1546. . 1 Trinity College King Henry 8. 

1441.. 2 The King's College. ... King Henry 6, Edward 4, E^enry 7, 

and Henry 8. 

15 1 1.. 3 St. John's Lady Margaret, grandmother to 

Henry 8. 

1505.. 4 Christ's College King Henry 6 and the Lady Mar- 
garet aforesaid. 

1446.. 5 The Queen's College. . Lady Margaret, wife to King Henry 6. 

1496.. 6 Jesus College John Alcock, bishop of Ely. 

1342.. 7 Bennet College The brethren of a Popish guild 

called Corporis Christi. 

1 343 • • 8 Pembroke Hall Maria de Valentia, Countess of Pem- 
broke. 

1256. . 9 Peter College Hugh Balsham, bishop of Ely. 

1 348.. 10 Gundewill and Caius 

1557- • College Edmund Gundevill, parson of Ter- 

rington, and John Caius, doctor 
of physic. 

1354.. 11 Trinity Hall William Bateman, bishop of Nor- 
wich. 

1 326.. 1 2 Clare Hall Richard Badow, chancellor of Cam- 
bridge. 

1459.. 13 Catherine Hall Robert Woodlark, doctor of divinity. 

1519..14 Magdalen College Edward, Duke of Buckingham, and 

Thomas, lord Audley. 

1585 .. 15 Emanuel College Sir Walter Mildmay, etc. 



402 HOLINSHED'S CHRONICLES 

Of the Colleges at Oxford 
Years of 

the Founda- Colleges Founders 

tion 

1539.. 1 Christ's Church King Henry 8. 

1459.. 2 Magdalen College William Wainfleet, first fellow of 

Merton College, then scholar at 
Winchester, and afterwards bishop 
there. 6 

137S •• 3 New College William Wickham, bishop of Win- 
chester. 

1276. . 4 Merton College Walter Merton, bishop of Rochester. 

x 437- • 5 All Souls' College Henry Chicheley, archbishop of Can- 
terbury. 

1 5 16.. 6 Corpus Christi College. Richard Fox, bishop of Winchester. 

1430.. 7 Lincoln College Richard Fleming, bishop of Lincoln. 

1323 . . 8 Auriel College Adam Broune, almoner to Edward 2. 

1340.. 9 The Queen's College.. R. Eglesfeld, chaplain to Philip, 

queen of England, wife to Ed- 
ward 3. 

1263. .10 Balliol College John Balliol, king of Scotland. 

1557. .11 St. John's Sir Thomas White, knight. 

1556. . 12 Trinity College Sir Thomas Pope, knight. 

1316..13 Excester College Walter Stapleten, bishop of Ex- 

cester. 

15 13.. 14 Brasen Nose William Smith, bishop of Lincoln. 

1 873.. 1 5 University College. ... William, archdeacon of Duresine. 

16 Gloucester College. .. .John Crifford, who made it a cell 

for thirteen monks. 

1 7 St. Mary's College .... 

18 Jesus College, now in 

hand Hugh ap Rice, doctor of the civil law. 

There are also in Oxford certain hotels or halls which may- 
right well be called by the names of colleges, if it were not 
that there is more liberty in them than is to be seen in the 
other. In my opinion the livers in these are very like to 
those that are of the inns in the chancery, their names also 
are these so far as I now remember: 

Brodegates. St. Mary Hall. 

Hart Hall. White Hall. 

Magdalen Hall. New Inn. 

Alburne Hall. Edmond Hall. 
Postminster Hall. 

The students also that remain in them are called hostlers 
or halliers. Hereof it came of late to pass that the right 

* He founded also a good part of Eton College, and a free school at Wain- 
fleet, where he was born. 



OF UNIVERSITIES 403 

Reverend Father in God, Thomas, late archbishop of Can- 
terbury, being brought up in such an house at Cambridge, 
was of the ignorant sort of Londoners called an " Hostler," 
supposing that he had served with some inn-holder in the 
stable, and therefore, in despite, divers hung up bottles of 
hay at his gate when he began to preach the gospel, where- 
as indeed he was a gentleman born of an ancient house, and 
in the end a faithful witness of Jesus Christ, in whose 
quarrel he refused not to shed his blood, and yield up his 
life, unto the fury of his adversaries. 

Besides these there is mention and record of divers other 
halls or hostels that have been there in times past, as Beef 
Hall, Mutton Hall, etc., whose ruins yet appear: so that if 
antiquity be to be judged by the shew of ancient buildings 
which is very plentiful in Oxford to be seen, it should be 
an easy matter to conclude that Oxford is the elder uni- 
versity. Therein are also many dwelling-houses of stone 
yet standing that have been halls for students, of very 
antique workmanship, besides the old walls of sundry others, 
whose plots have been converted into gardens since col- 
leges were erected. 

In London also the houses of students at the Common 
Law are these : 

Sergeant's Inn. Furnival's Inn. 

Gray's Inn. Clifford's Inn. 

The Temple. Clement's Inn. 

Lincoln's Inn. Lion's Inn. 

David's Inn. Barnard's Inn. 

Staple Inn. Newmann. 

And thus much in general of our noble universities, whose 
lands some greedy gripers do gape wide for, and of late 
have (as I hear) propounded sundry reasons whereby they 
supposed to have prevailed in their purposes. But who are 
those that have attempted this suit, other than such as either 
hate learning, piety, and wisdom, or else have spent all 
their own, and know not otherwise than by encroaching 
upon other men how to maintain themselves? When such 
a motion was made by some unto King Henry the Eighth, 
he could answer them in this manner : " Ah, sirra ! I per- 
ceive the Abbey lands have fleshed you, and set your teeth 



404 OF UNIVERSITIES 

on edge, to ask also those colleges. And, whereas we had 
a regard only to pull down sin by defacing the monasteries, 
you have a desire also to overthrow all goodness, by sub- 
version of colleges. I tell you, sirs, that I judge no land in 
England better bestowed than that which is given to our 
universities; for by their maintenance our realm shall be 
well governed when we be dead and rotten. As you love 
your welfares therefore, follow no more this vein, but 
content yourselves with that you have already, or else seek 
honest means whereby to increase your livelihoods; for I 
love not learning so ill that I will impair the revenues of 
any one house by a penny, whereby it may be upholden." 
In King Edward's days likewise the same suit was once 
again attempted (as I have heard), but in vain; for, saith 
the Duke of Somerset, among other speeches tending to that 
end — who also made answer thereunto in the king's pres- 
ence by his assignation: "If learning decay, which of wild 
men maketh civil; of blockish and rash persons, wise and 
goodly counsellors; of obstinate rebels, obedient subjects; 
and of evil men, good and godly Christians; what shall we 
look for else but barbarism and tumult? For when the 
lands of colleges be gone, it shall be hard to say whose staff 
shall stand next the door; for then I doubt not but the 
state of bishops, rich farmers, merchants, and the nobility, 
shall be assailed, by such as live to spend all, and think 
that whatsoever another man hath is more meet for them 
and to be at their commandment than for the proper owner 
that has sweat and laboured for it." In Queen Mary's 
days the weather was too warm for any such course to be 
taken in hand; but in the time of our gracious Queen 
Elizabeth I hear that it was after a sort in talk the third 
time, but without success, as moved also out of season ; and 
so I hope it shall continue for ever. For what comfort should 
it be for any good man to see his country brought into the 
estate of the old Goths and Vandals, who made laws against 
learning, and would not suffer any skilful man to come 
into their council-house: by means whereof those people 
became savage tyrants and merciless hell-hounds, till they 
restored learning again and thereby fell to civility. 



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